


The Elder Scrolls: A Monster By Any Other Name

by TheSpearDanes



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other, alternate universe - skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:22:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpearDanes/pseuds/TheSpearDanes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyrim AU, in which Carmilla is the Dragonborn and Laura is the daughter of the stable master in Whiterun. She dreams of adventure, Carmilla never wanted any of this madness, and somewhere along the way they fall in love and save their world from destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I, Scene i: Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for helpful information, other resources can be found and questions will be taken at thespeardanes.tumblr.com

ACT I  
     Scene i: Unbound

  
    Understand one thing: Laura Hollis was not a bad daughter. She was a very good daughter with very good intentions. How those intentions were interpreted was another matter entirely.

  
    “Laura Hollis, if that is one of my war horses, Talos himself will not be able to save you!” The all too familiar and unwelcome boom of Skulvar Sable-Hilt disrupted the calm that had fallen upon the surrounding moors of Whiterun. Laura sighed deeply at the far off cry, and turned from her spot by her horse’s side to look out towards Whiterun Stables where, sure enough, her adoptive father stood, huffing and screaming and waving his arms about in his usual manner.

  
     The first time Laura had witnessed his antics, she had been much younger, at the age of seven, and far more curious, and he had terrified her. Now at nineteen and still as adventurous as ever, she simply rolled her eyes and sighed in amusement as she turned to stroke the neck of the black mare that stood by her.

  
     The horse nickered affectionately towards the young girl, blinking in a content, almost sleepy manner. They had been gone all day, Laura choosing to neglect her chores at Jervar’s urging. Where her adoptive father had numerous shortcomings, Jervar was the best adoptive brother Laura could have asked for. While he had the talent of using a great deal of sarcasm, his kindness towards Laura was the greatest she had ever witnessed. He spoiled her when he could, be it with small amounts of money, nicer clothes, a few extra hours of sleep, even a surprise sweet roll waiting at her bedside table for her birthday, fresh out of the oven and tastier than Laura could have imagined. Today, it had been a day trip with Queen Alfsigr.

  
    Jervar knew very well how much the young girl adored the black mare. The horse had come to the stable a tiny foal around the same time Skulvar had brought home Laura, and the two had become fast friends. As they grew up, Laura grew more and more daring, to the point that she started to ride the black beauty on her own accord. While Skulvar refused to allow the girl to ride such a war horse- there were much more suitable, secure, _safe_ ponies- Jervar reverently supported the girl’s desires, and so every so often, when Skulvar’s back was turned, Jervar made sure to leave Alfsigr saddled and stocked for a long day of riding.

  
    Laura lived for those days, seated on the back of such a mighty steed, free to travel anywhere she wished, within _reason_ , of course, as Jervar constantly reminded her. She was allowed no further south than Riverwood, no further north than Windhelm, and the east and west were all but prohibited, restricted to between the two watch towers.  
    Still, she took immense pleasure in guiding Alfsigr through the woods for some fresh air and gorgeous scenery, and even more so in being able to visit the few friends she had been allowed to make in any other place besides Whiterun.

  
    She spent most of her time with LaFontaine and Perry within the bounds of Riverwood, where she let LaFontaine ride Queen Alfsigr away from disapproving eyes as Perry watched on fearfully.

  
    They were her two greatest friends in the world, and she had met them much by chance. She had been younger then, and increasingly shy when Skulvar had taken her to Riverwood for the first time. She had been all elbows, knees, long blonde hair, huge brown eyes, and as a result, within her place at the stables, she had felt she did not belong.

  
    Skulvar had not been little, had not been a disproportioned collection of long legs and short arms, and his eyes had been grey, his hair dark.

  
    Jervar had been much the same, a little shorter back then, but just as foreign, and the both of them together had been far too masculine for Laura to find any peace of mind.

  
    It had helped to find two people so similar to herself, whose height was equal to her own and whose voices were not so gruff.

  
    LaFontaine had still had their hair back then, long and ginger and down to their waist, and Perry would spend most of her time with her fingers in their hair, weaving it into complex braids in hopes of getting them to like it.

  
    They never did, and it was Laura who helped them chop it off two years later, with a pair of old shearing knives she had taken from the tool shed when Skulvar hadn’t been looking.

  
    Perry had found them down by the river, LaFontaine’s hair hacked gracelessly into pieces, and had wordlessly taken over for Laura and cut it into something resembling hair again.

  
    Perry braided Laura’s hair from then on out, but would still stroke her hands through LaFontaine’s when they grew brave enough to rest their head on her lap.

  
     When she wasn’t with her friends or in the woods, she was at Windhelm with Danny. Laura rarely had the nerve to keep conversation going very long with the gorgeous red headed girl, but when she did it made her heart flutter and a great deal of warmth build up from the tips of her toes to the red rims of her ears. Danny was something else, something different.

  
    The first time they had met, she had found Laura in a disheveled, sobbing heap. She had ridden Alfsigr farther and faster than allowed, and by some twist of fate, had fallen from the back of the black mare when the horse had stumbled over a wet patch of earth. Laura had gone flying, and had hit the earth for the first time, very, very hard.

  
    The black mare had stopped almost immediately, standing attentively as she had been trained to do by her riders side, waiting for Laura to recover.

  
    Laura’s arm had been on fire, bent oddly at the wrist, and she had torn the knees of her riding pants, where blood flowed in sticky waves. She had hit her head as well, and the world had spun in lazy circles as she had laid on the ground crying.

  
    Danny had found her like that, had been attracted by the noise and had rushed to her aid. She had already been tall for her age, and at fourteen was much taller than twelve year old Laura, so she had leaned down and gathered the girl up in her arms.

  
    She had taken Alfsigr to the stables and Laura back to her home, one of the larger houses within Windhelm, and had her tended by the family healer, who had set her arm and sent Danny to alert her father of her infliction.

  
    They had been friends ever since.

  
    Related to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, Danny was at the very front of the rebellion, and fiercely involved in her training. In the beginning, it was all she could talk about, how she was going to help in the liberation of Skyrim from the Imperials. After a while, she caught on that it made Laura uncomfortable- Skulvar supported the Imperials, after all, and therefore Laura did as well- and after that their encounters became less focused on politics and more on Danny teaching Laura how to fall off a horse correctly, and wield a sword, because _By the white wolf, Laura, that so called “curiosity” of yours is going to get you into trouble someday_.

  
    Laura learned her way around a dagger eventually- an iron sword was too ineffective and a steel sword was far too heavy- when Danny suggested archery, and it was through that which Laura truly blossomed.

  
    It started when Danny stole her father’s hunting bow for a day, intent on teaching Laura how to use it, and by the end Laura was instructing Danny.

  
    She was a killer with a bow- a _marksman_ , as Danny called her. All that she aimed for she hit, be it rabbits or wolves of even the torch bugs, tiny and almost unperceivable.

  
    It was when she downed a deer with a single shot to the head from the back of a galloping Alfsigr that she earned Danny’s eternal admiration.

  
    Danny let her keep the bow -her father did not miss it- and Laura took it home and hid it under the floor panels within her room and only took it out at night, when she was sure Skulvar was asleep, to trail tentative fingers across the refined wood.

  
    She only grew brave enough to actually take it out with her on rides when she turned eighteen, and decided to reveal her talent to Skulvar by shooting down an elk. She had tied the body to Alfsigr, and the black mare dragged it home while she walked beside her.

  
    She never did forget the look on Skulvar’s face when they approached, Alfsigr giddy and Laura completely unkempt, her hands bloody and bow strung across her back.

  
    The elk sold for a large sum of money, however, and while Skulvar gave her quite the verbal thrashing, he let her keep the bow.

  
    He never did really warm to the idea of her riding Alfsigr, though, hence why he stood hollering at her from across the moors, but he did tolerate it for short amounts of time if Laura brought back a good enough haul.

  
    Today had been no ordinary day. Whiterun, home to the Imperials, had been celebrating the capture of Ulfric Stormcloak. His execution, not yet scheduled, would without a doubt bring an end to the civil war that had plagued the lands since before Laura could remember, the one that had apparently brought about the death of her parents.

  
    Laura had steered clear of Windhelm because of it, not wanting to see the haunted look that would without a doubt lie in Danny’s eyes.

  
    At the very least, Danny had yet to be inducted into the rebellion. When the war finally concluded, she would not be executed as a traitor.

  
    Her family would, though, and the thought left a lump in Laura’s throat.

  
    Laura had been out for much longer than intended. While it wasn’t an unusual occurrence, this time it was different. It hadn’t been her fault.

  
    She had spent the usual hour exploring the surrounding woods, had popped in at Riverwood to share some grilled leeks and catch up with LaFontaine, and had then delved back towards Whiterun to scour the moors and hunt. She had gathered a good sized haul, two deer, an unlucky fox and three average sized rabbits, when she found herself in a part of the forest she did not recognize.

  
    While this would have been exciting for her twelve year old self, who had never before explored the forests of Whiterun, at nineteen she had been confident she knew all of the territory for what it was. Now, faced again with the unknown, she felt not excitement but fear.

  
    Something hadn’t been right.

  
    The sun was gone, a light that had never before failed Laura. It had not disappeared, but was subdued in the wake of the unknown.

  
    There had been a darkness Laura had never felt, and it called out to her, drew her nearer even as she felt Alfsigr tense to flee. Laura did not fear for the creature’s courage. The horse was too well learned, too loyal, had too much war in her blood to flee on her own accord. She had remained fixed in her stance as Laura fidgeted above her, indecisive.

  
    Eventually, some small rational part of her brain told her to run, and she listened.

  
    She did not get very far.

  
   _Kiir, los tol hi? (Child, is that you?)_

  
    The phrase, spoken as a question, had shaken the forest to it’s roots. It was unlike anything Laura had ever heard before. Beneath her Alfsigr stumbled, growing nervous, and Laura attempted to soothe her while her own heart raced.

  
     _Mu saran, mal gein. (We await, little one.)_

  
    Alfsigr had reared, quickly becoming unruly, and teetered forward a few steps. Laura had tugged her back. While completely foreign to her, she did not fear the voice. It called her forward, and she felt obliged to follow it. She urged Alfsigr onwards, and the mare obeyed without question after a hesitant moment.

  
     _Dreh ni faas. (Do not fear.)_

  
    She had ridden forward then, cautious, her bow at the ready as they had continued. Around her, the forest grew even more unfamiliar. All but the path ahead seemed to dissolve and blacken, until there was no other way to go but straight. Laura had tried not to look to the sides, for fear that panic would overrun her.

  
    Whatever ailment she suddenly seemed to suffered from, it did not affect Alfsigr, as the mare continued, on edge but not disoriented.

  
    They had eventually encountered the last unfamiliarity in the form of a great, circular pit. It had been made of stone, deep and strong, and just as Laura had not feared the voice, she had not feared the structure.

  
    She dismounted from Alfsigr, laying a both cautious and comforting hand on the mare’s flank, and had continued to the edge of the pit. She had found stairs there, carved from the stone, and followed them down without much thought. The instant her foot had hit the hard stone floor, the voice had boomed once more, deeper and stronger, with greater power.

  
  _Faal Aak daal. (The Guide returns.)_

  
    She had turned then, to see a great wall etched with a language of scratches, for which she had no understanding. It was not that which drew her attention, however.

  
    In the pit it had become darker than before, so dark that all she could see was the center of the tablet. It glowed an ethereal blue, a violent one, so bright it had almost hurt her to look. The pit had shaken again with the power of the voice.

  
  _Dahmaan daar. Inaak ek het. (Remember this. Lead her here.)_

  
    The light had then burned even brighter, if possible, and then just as simply as it had been all she had known, she knew nothing but the darkness.

  
    When her eyes opened again, she was lying within familiar forest. Alfsigr stood beside her, grazing contently, the animals she had caught laying nearby, waiting to be tied up for transport. Her bow was sheathed and lay beneath her, propping up her quiver like a pillow.

  
    She had sprung to her feet after a sleepy glance at the sky, her body jolting upright as she realized that the world had fallen to dusk, and that she should have returned to Whiterun hours ago.

  
    The thought and the frantic need to tie up her spoils to Alfsigr had wiped all memory of whatever encounter she had recently had from her mind.  
    And so there she stood, about a mile or so away from the stables, watching Skulvar yell at her from a distance as the sun threatened to disappear behind her.

  
    It had hit her then, as she led Alfsigr forward, the entire encounter in the forest. She had remembered the blue light and the voice that had whispered words she did not understand. As the sun faded completely behind her, however, and Skulvar’s angry voice drew nearer, she pushed it from her mind. It had been a dream, she had decided, one she could not attempt to rationalize or understand, but a dream nonetheless.

  
    She did not think of it again for many moons. 


	2. Act I, Scene ii: Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim AU, in which Carmilla is the Dragonborn and Laura is the daughter of the stable master in Whiterun. She dreams of adventure, Carmilla never wanted any of this madness, and somewhere along the way they fall in love and save their world from destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end notes for important information, other resources can be found and questions will be taken at thespeardanes.tumblr.com

Act I, Scene ii: Before the Storm

  
    Everyone saw the smoke in the sky.

  
    Everyone heard the far off bellows of an ancient, unknown evil.(Despite an actual visual of said unknown evil, everyone within and without of Whiterun promptly panicked.)

  
    Laura was reading when she first heard the screams, not of the creature but of the terrified people outside. She had gotten to her feet, as curious as she was alarmed, when Jervar had come racing into her room, eyes wide and body quivering with a fear Laura had never seen in him.

  
    “Laura, pack some things together quickly, we need to leave,” He had ordered her, his words stammered and uncertain as he had stumbled around, throwing a knapsack at her as he pushed her towards her wardrobe.

  
    “Leave?” Laura’s voice had been startled, confused and concerned, “Leave for where?”

  
    “We need to get into Whiterun, get behind the walls,” His tone had been short and clipped as he tossed random items at her, and she eventually stepped in and pushed him out of the way and set to packing by herself.

  
    “But why?” Her voice carried impatience as she packed a few days worth of clothing as well as some food and mead, and then promptly set to prying up the floorboards in search of her bow and quiver.

  
    Jervar was silent in response, his forehead crinkling as he just shook his head, as if he were beyond communicating. Then at last he turned his head to her, spoke gruffly.  
    “By the gods, Laura, just hurry,” He groaned, stuffing a fistful of gold and some salmon steaks into her bag while she arranged her weapons, “As soon as you are finished here, head up to Whiterun. I’ll meet you at the Bannered Mare, but first I have to get the horses somewhere safe,” He told her, and then he had gone.

  
    He left her in her own panic as the bellowing of the beast causing such terror became audible, shaking the small cabin with it‘s might. It was a sound she had never heard, shrill and terrifying in the way it chilled her to the bone.

  
    “Jervar!” She was screaming, despite the house suddenly being eerily still, “Where’s Skulvar?” Her question went unanswered. Jervar was long gone.

  
    She entered the road outside of her home and was greeted with drastic change. Every merchant and farmer from the surrounding premises was fleeing up the safety of the walls in a great, unified exodus. Children wailed from their mother’s arms, men ushered forward their families with hard faces, and behind it all was a black silhouette in the sky, a thick smoke that curled up in never ending fumes. Occasionally, from a great distance, bursts of a violent orange became visible for short moments.

  
    The screams from the surrounding civilians confirmed Laura’s fear.

  
    “Dragon!” A passing merchant yelled, heading for the safety of the wall, “There’s a dragon attacking Helgen!”

  
    Laura’s heart leapt into her throat. _A dragon_? Dragons were myths, legends, a clever tool used by protective mothers to make sure their children ate their vegetables and did their chores and respected their elders. They were entirely mythical. Under no circumstances could they be real.

  
    Yet the shrieks of a creature as old as time echoed from the mountains, and in the distance, far off Helgen burned slowly to the ground.

  
    There was nothing imaginary about such destruction.

  
    Laura found herself being herded up towards the walled city against her will. At first she had followed the stream of people slowly, her eyes fixed on the blackened sky. Just as quickly her mind had reminded her of her family, of Jervar and Skulvar and Alfsigr, all of which their fate she did not know. She thought of Perry and LaFontaine only a short walk from neighboring Helgen, who were without a doubt in danger. She thought of all of these people, and knew she could not simply flee to the walls without at least trying to help them.

  
    The crowd was not so willing to let her go, however. She fought against the current, tried to push back against the swarm that pushed forwards, and found it impossible. They carried her on despite her cries, blatantly ignoring her pleas.

  
    At some point, however, Jervar found her. He snatched her roughly to the side, where miraculously Skulvar had appeared as well, and at the presence of her family Laura relaxed enough to stop fighting. They raced up the steps towards Whiterun then, fleeing the unknown approaching evil.

  
    Laura had just begun to feel safe again. The walls had come into view, the crowd had slowed down, and at the moment things had seemed bearable. Then they had approached the motionless crowd completely, and heard the words the guards of Whiterun offered to them.

  
    “Attention! Due to these uncertain times, Whiterun has been closed off, and we are no longer granting entrance into the city. Please return in an orderly fashion to your homes and await further instruction,”

  
    The guard had no sooner gotten the last words out when the crowd flew into chaos. A mighty uproar sounded, a group of people surged forwards.  
    “You’re leaving us to die!” A Khajiit cried from beside Laura, his head thrown back in a wail.

  
    “What about the dragon?”

  
    “We’ll all be destroyed!”

  
    “People,” The guard attempted again, hands raised, “Calm yourselves. We have yet to see any dragon so far. If one becomes present, or if we have any reason to fear the destruction of our outside provinces, the Jarl will declare a state of war, and you will all be evacuated. Such a time has not yet arrived. Please keep your heads, return to your homes, and await further instruction,” He had stated.

  
    Perhaps his words might have worked, had a thunderous, spine tingling wail not sounded at that exact moment.

  
    Again, there was chaos. This time, Skulvar opened his mouth as well.

  
    “We are all citizens of Whiterun! I sell the damned Jarl his war horses, I pay my taxes when they are due. For what other purpose do I go about those means but for protection?” His voice had been sharp, accusing, a building shout that was echoed from the people around him.

  
    The guard grew impatient from his place at the wall, no doubt eager to take shelter as well from the oncoming threat.

  
    “We thank you for your patience and understanding,” He had stated, and then all but disappeared.

  
    A riot broke out immediately. People surged forward, pounding on the wall, as if they somehow possessed the strength to break through the stone. Laura had been jostled to the side and nearly knocked off her feet as a man had attempted to grab her bow from her, to use as some form of leverage over the others. Jervar had stepped in then, and had knocked the man’s lights out as Skulvar had grabbed Laura and turned to flee, pushing his way without consideration through the crowd.

Jervar had joined them shortly, a gash on his cheek and his knuckles bruised and bleeding.

  
    “Where are we going?” Laura had called, struggling for her footing under Skulvar’s insistent tugs.

  
    “Back to the stables. They’ll never let us in. We’ll have to do the best we can,” He had stated, and his voice had been grim.

  
    “Damn imperial bastards,” Jervar had snarled beside them, glaring up at the walls, “ You see father? This is why we should support the Stormcloaks. They’d never leave a Nord out to die,” Jervar had all but spat as they approached their home.

  
    Skulvar had turned sharply then, his mouth tight and eyes narrowed.

  
    “Another word on those damned rebels and I’ll leave you out with the horses, boy,” He had practically snarled, and Laura had wished to shrink away as Jervar had rounded on Skulvar, fuming.

  
    “Stop it now, both of you,” She had shouted, pushing at Skulvar’s chest, “Fight about it when there isn’t a dragon headed our way,” She had snapped, and to her great surprise, they had listened.

  
    They had rushed inside, locking the doors and pulling shut the windows, and when they had felt like there was nothing more to be done, they simply sat quietly in the sitting room, eating some of the salmon steaks and listening to the monstrous roars from Helgen.

  
    Finally, after what seemed to last centuries, the cries stopped.

  
    Things deescalated quickly. The rain came, the smoke faded, and a calm, however false, settled itself over East March. Despite it, everyone continued to stay indoors.

  
    As the hours turned to days, still no news came of the incident at Helgen.

  
    “Perhaps it wasn’t a dragon,” Jervar speculated as he and Laura went about making dinner. The world of Skyrim had been quiet since the attack on Helgen two days previous.

The walls of Whiterun still remained firmly shut, though, which still served as a bad omen to all who dwelled outside of it. No news had yet to arrive, though Danny had stopped by to see how Laura was. Her brother had been dispatched by Ulfric Stormcloak himself, and he had agreed to take her along after a bit of begging. They came to offer sanctuary to anyone who had been turned away from Whiterun, and a surprising amount of people went with them to Windhelm.

  
    Danny had pleaded for Laura to come along as well, and while she would have accepted in a heartbeat, Skulvar blatantly refused and demanded that Danny left. After the girl had disappeared, he and Jervar had had another fight.

  
    Laura had gone to her room then, after her attempts to calm them failed, and had tried to drown out the screaming.

  
    It was on the third day that something happened. Not to Whiterun, and not to any of the other villagers outside the wall. Not even, really, did it occur to Jervar or Skulvar. But it did happen to Laura, and it changed the course of her life forever.

  
    The sun had given way to a particularly chilly night. It was storming, with lightning dotting the sky occasionally, and the wind pushing hard against the little house they dwelled in. While it was not necessarily unusual weather, it sat uncomfortably with the small family, especially in regard to the incident that had occurred at Helgen. They sat idle around the fire, Laura sipping alto wine while the men drank mead and tried to keep inner monsters at bay.

  
    Laura had just started to drift off, her head leaning against a chair, a warm fur wrapped around her body, when something large slammed against the door, causing a loud thud to echo through the house.

  
    “What in oblivion was that?” Jervar grunted, shifting about to stare at the door as Skulvar got to his feet.

  
    Laura had been jolted from her sleepy state, and just managed to open her eyes as Skulvar opened the door and promptly jumped backwards in alarm as a body fell into the house.

  
    “It is- it is a girl,” Skulvar had proclaimed, astounded as he leaned down and reached out to touch a hand to her cheek, to check for life.

  
    Jervar had leaped to his feet as quickly as Laura, and both rushed over to help Skulvar pull the lifeless body into the house and shut the door, blocking out the storm.

  
    “Quickly Laura, light some of the candles so we can see,” Skulvar had ordered, and Laura had obeyed without thought, rushing about and igniting the wicks until the house was bathed in soft candlelight.

  
    It was then she had turned and allowed herself to observe the girl for the first time.

  
    She had been nothing special.

  
    Her hair, black and matted and greased had clung wetly to her face, which had been unnaturally pale due to her exhaustion. Her face had been streaked with dirt, her lips pale pink and chapped, the rims of her closed eyes red. She had been dressed in imperial armor that was obviously not her own, it was far too big for her and clung to all the wrong places, making her look misshapen and feeble. An iron sword lay sheathed at her side, rusted and worn, practically useless.

  
    Of all these things, the greatest was this:

  
    She was stained by blood. All along her armor and sword, it dried in sticky, crimson streaks. It covered her hands and fingers, ran patterns along her neck and across her face. It gave her a coppery, salty smell that had Laura crinkling her nose in disgust. She had made the decision to back away from the distressed creature when the girl had opened her eyes, her mouth opening in a gasp as she had breathed in a painful breath of air.

  
    Her eyes, for just a moment, had been an ethereal, unearthly blue.

 

Then she blinked and they faded into a traditional brown before the girl slipped off again.

  
    Laura’s mind raced back to her encounter in the woods, to the words written in the stone, the violent color of cyan that seemed to be everywhere. Then Skulvar spoke, first at a mumble and then at a shout, and the thoughts left her as suddenly as they had come.

  
    “Laura! I said get a wash cloth!” He had ordered, angry at how slow her response was, and she had leaped to her feet and gathered a rag, wetting it in a bucket as they moved the girl into Jervar’s room- he never really minded sleeping in the stable.

  
    She came closer without any dictation from Skulvar and set to cleaning the girl to the best of her ability.

  
    She started with the girl’s face, bringing the cloth gently over the girl’s closed eyes, carefully cleaning them of dirt and blood alike. She moved up to her forehead, soothing across the few worry lines she found there, marveling at how surprisingly soft the pale skin was, and from there gently addressed her cheeks, her gestures soft and swift and as gentle as possible as she attempted to keep from causing greater harm.

  
    Despite the care she took, the girl’s cheeks still came away a flushed red from the roughness of the cloth, and Laura felt a sinking feeling at the sight of it.  
    She was rather unprepared for the face that emerged from underneath the wear that the cloth collected.

  
    The girl wore the most beautiful features Laura had ever observed. Her cheeks, sharp and angular, forged an ivory path down to the strength of her jaw line, which stood square and eloquently defined. The bridge of her nose, just wide enough, guided towards large, hooded eyes that sat pressed closed by dusted lids. Her lips, turned the red of a ruby by the cloth in Laura’s hands, shined bright in the candlelight, enticing in the manner they sat, slightly parted with the girl’s breath, beckoning for Laura to come closer.

  
    Within the blur of her thoughts, she might have obliged them.

  
    Instead, she was roughly jarred backwards as the girl was ripped out from under her, and into Skulvar’s arms.

  
    “Pull back some of the furs, Laura, so I can lay her down,” Had been his instruction, as he had gestured towards Jervar’s bed.

  
    Laura, blinking in surprise, had jumped to accomplish the task, yanking back several of the pelts to make way. Skulvar had then lowered the raven haired girl to the straw mattress, and as Laura had continued to stand still, staring, had rolled his eyes and snatched the furs from his adopted daughter and proceeded to cover the girl with them.

  
    He had ushered Laura out then, warning her to stay from the room and give the girl time to rest.

  
    She had obeyed him without question, of course, but had slept restlessly.

  
    She dreamed all night of pale skin and dark hair and curled, ruby lips.

  
                    * * *

  
    When she awoke, it was to the smell of sweet rolls baking.

  
    She sat up immediately, confusion fluttering through her. Skulvar never allowed Jervar to bake sweet rolls, only on the most special of occasions, and Laura could not for the life of her think why he would now-

  
    Oh.

  
    Thoughts of the girl- the _beautiful_ girl- flooded her mind instantly, and she shot out of bed for a different reason than sweet rolls.

  
    You see, Laura had never really had the presence of another girl within her home. Sure, she had friends, plenty of them. Yet none had ever shared her house with her, and for certain none had ever struck her in so interestingly a way as she. This was a foreign encounter, and for it Laura was ever so excited.

  
    The kitchen, with the exception of Jervar and the scent of sweet rolls, was disappointedly empty, and Laura visibly deflated with a sigh.

  
    She was not a very patient person.

  
    Jervar, however, helped focus her on other matters.

  
    “Laura,” Her adopted brother’s brow crinkled in both surprise and amusement, “You’ve not dressed,” He observed, his voice curious and a bit taken a back.  
    Immediately Laura felt herself flush as she turned to look down at herself. It was true, she stood only in her thin, scandalously short night gown, which while provided great comfort while sleeping, was in no way appropriate to adorn throughout the household, or anywhere else, really.

  
    Her mouth opened as she attempted something- an apology, or an explanation, but Jervar just cut her off with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

  
    “Go change, you fog brained child, before Skulvar catches sight of you,” He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he turned to attend the sweet rolls.

  
    Laura flashed him a quick smile, still rather embarrassed, and fled to the seclusion of her room.

  
    When she dared emerged again, she was in quite less a state of disarray.

  
    Her hair had been pulled into a neat high ponytail, her body dressed in a flowing white tunic, well worn throughout the years, and her legs covered by warm black trousers. They lead their way to coal black boots, fitted perfectly to her feet, that scuffed softly against the stone floors.

  
    Again there was no sign of the girl.

  
    This time, as she visibly wilted, Jervar witnessed it yet again, and the same chuckle found its way to his lips.

  
    “Come have a slice of sweet roll and try on some patience for a change,” He had teased her, and with a huff Laura had obliged him, making her way to sit beside him on the kitchen bench.

  
    She smothered the roll she received in custard- which Jervar had been gracious enough to warm over the fire- and without hesitation bit into it.  
    It was by far her favorite treat. Crisp, warm and savory, it had a way of warming her from her core to the tips of her toes, which she wiggled in happiness at the joy the dessert brought about.

  
    She finished it far too soon for her liking, and knowing better than to ask for another piece, set back to impatiently sulking.

  
    Jervar put up with her for about a half hour before her idleness became to much, and whipping together a quick lunch pail, told her to go and enjoy herself with Alfsigr.

  
    “Ride up to Windhelm, see that tall friend of yours,” He had told her, absentmindedly washing up a few stray dishes.

  
    Laura had gone.

  
    She did miss seeing Danny- the brief, angry visit two days prior had not counted.

  
    She made good time to Windhelm, Queen Alfsigr more than happy for the chance to let loose. The black mare had carried her at an effortless gallop across the softer moors, the soft scent of long grass and pine a constant guide.

  
    Laura hadn’t felt up to taking to roads, they were too barren for her taste. She copied the woodland creatures in these respects- felt safer surrounded by the grass than the winding stone.

  
    She left Alfisgr at the Windhelm stable with an apple and an affectionate pat, and then entered the city.

  
    The vast village had frightened her when she was a child, it had seemed too large and too cold and too _rebellious_ for the girl’s taste, but Danny had shown her the pleasures of the town, and she had come to rather enjoy her trips there.

  
    As long as her support of the Imperials was kept quiet, she was welcomed.

  
    After a quick stop at the market place, at which she parted with three fox pelts she had come across on her trip up, she headed to the usual location of Danny Lawrence.

  
    The Palace of the Kings was always a lively affair, with the outer courthouse always filled with soldiers or those aspiring to be. Here, those mentioned practiced for hours on red painted targets, honing their skills till the day they might be put to some use.     

  
    While Danny was usually surrounded by the girls she trained with- they called themselves the Summer Society, if Laura remembered correctly- upon this occasion, she had been alone.

  
    “Danny!” Laura had been quick to greet her red haired friend, upon which the girl’s head immediately shot up from where she had been attacking a target with her sword.

  
    The resulting smile she gave her had Laura’s stomach tightening.

  
    Where on most days they would have lingered about the city, this time Danny had taken her beyond the walls, to the surrounding forest.

  
    Had they still been children, they would have raced about on tinier limbs, and the forest may as well have been their entire world.

  
    Now, as they sauntered about in what remaining sunlight they had, Laura was struck by how tiny it seemed in comparison to the places she knew of.

  
    With age, she supposed, came the need for greater explorations.

  
    Still, it came as a shock when Danny confirmed her musings.

  
    “I’m glad you came to see me today, Laura,” The girl had murmured from beside her, and Laura had immediately beamed upwards.

  
    “Well, you know me, I never stay away for long,” She had hummed out, somewhat nervous and awkward until Danny had smiled as well.

  
    “Yeah, I know you,” She had spoken in response, and words which had until then been friendly had suddenly never before sounded so personal.

  
    Danny jolted to a sudden halt then, her arm reaching out, stopping Laura in her tracks.

  
    In the sun’s light her hair was the brightest scarlet, her eyes the deepest blue, and if Laura dared to look close enough, she could count off of the tips of her fingers all seven freckles that stretched across the band of her nose.

  
    Danny was beautiful.

  
    “Laura..” Her voice trailed off uncertainly as her eyes flitted about, searching for the right words, “After today, I fear I will not see you,”

  
    The words had hit Laura harder than she expected them too. Her head titled to the side as the warmth that had been growing within her froze.

  
    “For what reasons?” Laura questioned, trying to take a step backwards but failing as Danny’s hold tightened, and her brow crinkled in confusion.

  
    Again the redhead was silent, and Laura felt her impatience grow.

  
    “Danny?”

  
    “I’ve… It’s happened Laura. I’ve joined the Stormcloaks,” She had stated.

  
    Laura was immediately confused. After all, the Imperials were going to crush the rebellion before it escalated any further. They had already captured Jarl Ulfric, though his execution date had not yet been announced. Still, they could have already killed him and decided simply not to go about such a formality.

  
    “But Danny… they caught Ulfric,” At the mention of her relatives name, the girl’s eyes gleamed.

  
    “But that’s the thing, Laura. They didn’t,” And here Danny could barely contain her glee.

  
    “Ulric was at Helgen,” Danny had claimed then, and the words had made Laura freeze.

  
    It was the first time anyone had mentioned the name of the village to her since it’s attack, and the act of doing so had the hairs raising along Laura’s arms.

  
    “He escaped execution. He’s come home to Windhelm. The war will continue and… I’m going to take my part in it,” Danny said, “I’ve already been inducted, all of the Summer Society has. We’re Unblooded now, first rank, but I hope to be a Bone-Breaker by summer next,” Her voice trilled onwards with uncontained excitement, before it deepened to something softer, “We travel to Hjaalmarch camp tomorrow,”

  
    Had it been anyone else, Laura’s immediate reaction would have been horror. While she kept her political opinions to herself, she followed the war just as well as anyone.

  
    Any day now, the Imperials _would_ expel the Stormcloaks into nothing. The rebellion would be put down, all survivors regarded as traitors to the nation.

  
    Danny would be killed.

  
    But this was not anyone else. This was Danny, and since the first day Laura had known her, this was what she had wanted to do. War was in her blood, and the skills were learned into her muscles. She was all that was good and brave and strong.

  
    And she was also, much the same as Laura, probably getting tired of staring at the same walls everyday.

  
    And so, Laura put aside the fear she felt for her, ignored the crushing feelings that pressed down on her chest, and pushed her features up into a tight smile.

  
    “I’m happy for you Danny,” She had said, trying to be as true as possible.

  
    Danny had just laughed.

  
    “No need to lie, Laura,” She had said softly, a hand moving up to run nervously through her hair, “I know how you feel just as much as you do me,” And a quiet had settled over them for a moment, “But thank you,” She had eventually sighed, and in a rather daring movement had reached out to grab Laura’s hand.

  
    Laura let her.

  
    “Are you sure about this?” Laura had finally questioned, the fact that Danny was actually _going_ finally striking her.

  
    Danny had been nodding before Laura stopped speaking, her smile sad.

  
    “I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life,” She had told her, but the sentence had ended oddly, as if she had wished to tack something else on but had revised to edit it out.

  
    Instead of questioning her any further, Laura had simply smiled.

  
    “Have you packed yet?” She had asked.

  
    Danny had immediately nodded, giving a genuine grin.

  
    “I started to the second I got word,” She said.

  
    “Will you… would you write to me?” Laura’s words where suddenly hesitant again, uncertain.

  
    “Of course I will!” Immediately Danny’s eyes had widened, she had stood a little straighter, her voice a little rougher, “It’s just, I don’t know how much time I’ll have, or if I’ll even have the gold, couriers are expensive so far north and-”

  
    “No, of course,” Laura had immediately interrupted, “You’ll be fighting a war. That’s where your focus will be, of course you won’t have the time,” Laura had laughed at her own stupidity, shaking her head.

  
    Danny’s grip on her hand had tightened.

  
    “I’ll make time,” She had stated, and it had sounded dangerously like a promise.

  
    The sun was fading fast when Laura finally realized that this would most likely be the last time she saw Danny.

  
    The fact settled heavily on her heart, and she smiled as what started to feel a lot like tears pricked at her eyes. She had tightened her grip on their hands as well, bringing them up between them to be observed.

  
    “Fight well, Danny Lawrence,” She had never spoken stronger words, and almost coward from them until she saw how light they made the red-haired girl’s eyes.

  
    Within their reflection, she saw herself smile.

  
    She found herself being pulled forward, and quite suddenly was wrapped within the girl’s tall frame. She hugged her back with all she had.

  
    After all, she would never get another chance.

  
    She didn’t know how long they held each other, only that they came apart too soon.

  
    They stared at one another then, and just as suddenly as she had been hugged, warm lips brushed across her forehead before the girl extracted herself completely. She smiled at her then, and despite the anguish Laura felt building within herself, she smiled back.

  
    She was grateful that the fading light hid her blush.

  
    “Don’t you go forgetting about me, Laura Hollis,” Danny had quipped, and Laura had been unable to keep her smile from splitting into a grin.

  
    “You’re unforgettable,”

  
                    * * *

  
    Laura had cried the entire ride home, offering no help to Alfsigr as the mare picked her way carefully back towards Whiterun.

  
    Once the sun had set, Danny had been quick to disappear. Needless to say, Laura had followed suit and had set out immediately to return home, knowing Skulvar would be furious with her due to the late hour she would be returning at.

  
    Every step Alfsigr took away from Windhelm had Laura fighting the urge to return.

  
    She had never lost anyone in this manner, never mind a person who was as important to her as Danny. It was not an enjoyable feeling.

  
    She realized then, why so many bards could only write songs about heartache. It was all she could think about.

  
    So focused had she been on the entire ordeal, she completely forgot that another person occupied her home.

  
    That was, of course, until she stumbled upon said person.

  
    She had ridden up to her home and had unsaddled and fed Alfsigr when she noticed that the entire house was still lit on the inside, a bizarre notion, as Skulvar and Jervar always extinguished every light but the hearth when night fell.

  
    She had stumbled in not knowing what to expect.

  
    What she had definitely not expected, was _her_.

  
    “Well don’t you look like a virgin sacrifice,”

  
    The voice had been rough, feminine and far too foreign, and had promptly sent Laura flailing backwards into the kitchen table with a squeak of surprise.

  
    The resulting laugh from said voice had added a blush to her disheveled appearance.

  
    Of course, the instant her eyes met that of the speaker, she remembered everything. Where the onslaught of Danny’s absence had distracted her, there was no doubt now that once again the stranger was at the forefront of Laura’s mind.

  
    She had though, admittedly, lost her enthusiasm on the matter.

  
    The girl sat curled by the hearth fire, her small body wrapped up in the contours of a blanket ( _Laura’s_ blanket), her features bathed in warm, orangey light.

  
    She was all the more startling than Laura’s memory served.

  
    The blood had been washed from her hair, freeing the raven locks to trickle down elegantly in smooth, wavy strands that just brushed her mid shoulder.

  
    Her eyes, which Laura had only known for a brief moment, stared wide and bold up at her, a golden brown mirth that belonged within the wood of a soft pine, the spice of ginger, the darkness of a cave.

  
    Her lips were of a softer shade, lessened by the healthier color that had returned to her face, no doubt due to adequate rest and some good food.

  
    The empty bowl and spoon that sat by her side proved just how much the two elements had helped.

  
    “You are awake,” Laura said, choosing blatantly to ignore the girl’s chosen greeting.

  
    “My, you _are_ an observant one. And you have returned home at last. Your family will no doubt be relieved. They have everyone willing out looking for you,” She stated, with an amused smirk and a lift of her eyebrow that should have made Laura much more uncomfortable than it did.

  
    Instead, she simply sat back against the kitchen bench with a groan, not yet brave enough to address the beautiful stranger.

  
    “I did not mean to get back so late,” She huffed.

  
    “What, did your mother never teach you that it is dangerous to go running about the nighttime hours?” The girl’s voice was a near purr, her content confidence throwing Laura off guard.

  
    Laura had planned to interact with the same frail creature that had tripped into her home the night before.

  
    This was not the same person.

  
    At the girl’s words, a jolt of pain had shot through her, as often occurred when someone mentioned her mother. She could have told the girl right then and there that _no, she didn’t, she’s dead_ , but that would have been beyond inappropriate.

  
    Such intimacies were not to be shared with strangers, no matter how enticing their appearance.

  
    Instead, she responded with a similar jest.

  
    “Did not yours?”

  
    Another smirk, but otherwise silence. The girl’s eyes drifted back to the fire, as if Laura had now become uninteresting. She seized the opportunity to take a step closer, and found comfort when the girl let her come without complaint.

  
    She settled a few feet from the fire, feigning a need for warmth.

  
    She allowed her eyes to drift to her, and found a quiet thrill when the girl observed her quietly at first, and then simply let her go on staring.

  
    Eventually, however, her impatience emerged.

  
    “So?” Laura spoke, and despite the girl’s cool façade, she jumped at the sudden sound, and Laura filed the information away careful within her head.

  
    The girl simply looked at her questioningly.

  
    “Who are you?” Her tone was more direct then, imploring.

  
    “Who is asking, cutie?” The girl’s mouth spread into a sly smile again, and the implication and use of the world prompted a smile to Laura’s own face against her will.

  
    If that was how the girl wanted to play, so be it.

  
    “Laura. Laura of Hollis,” She had responded, and had grown confused when the girl’s lips had split into a pearly grin, her head tilting with the action.

  
    “What?” Laura had questioned, somewhat defensively.

  
    “You do not bear your father’s name,” She had hummed curiously, the arch of one of her brows raising.

  
    “He’s not my father,” Laura had said, answering her unspoken question, “At least, not by blood,” She had rushed to finish her sentence, before the girl got the wrong idea.

  
    Again she gave a simple hum and a nod of her head, her eyes flitting back to the firelight.

  
    “I’d have given much to have kept my father’s name,”

  
    “What is it? Your name, I mean,” Laura had asked.

  
    At first, it had appeared the girl would not tell her. She had remained drawn up tight, her eyes fixed firmly ahead on the hearth, and Laura had wilted a bit. Then a few moments had passed, and her voice had hummed through the air, snapping Laura’s attention back to her.

  
    “Carmilla,” She had murmured softly, as if the name pained her greatly to speak, “of Silas,”

  
   _Carmilla._

  
    The name was everything she had expected it to be. Beautiful, in the sense that it’s flow was one that most names native to Skyrim lacked and rarely saw, and perfect in the way that it suited her. Once the name passed from her lips and into Laura’s mind, there could be no other association with her but through it’s use.

  
    It was also, to Laura’s delight, a traditional Nord name, the same way her own was. Her assumptions, of course, had been that the girl was a Nord, but Laura had little experience with foreign things. The fact that she was so similar to herself only made Laura happier.

  
    What flawed the name, however, was the last one.

  
   _Silas._

  
    It tasted wrong on her tongue, all too unfamiliar to be of common tongue. It was of nothing Laura recognized, something she could in no way put context too. Not even amongst the imperials had she heard of such an odd family name.

  
    She put two and two together rather quickly.

  
    “That name is not of Skyrim,” She had murmured, and Carmilla knew of which she spoke.

  
    “No,” She drawled after a long moment, her lips pursing together in contemplation, “And neither am I,” Her eyes shot quickly over to Laura, then flitted away, “Not for a long time anyways,”

  
    This time it was Laura who waited silently, watching.

  
    “My mother was from the Summerset Isles. My father was from Skyrim,” She had eventually allowed her, “If you must know,”

  
    Laura had all but glowed at the small bit of freely given knowledge.

  
    “And his name was?” She fought to keep the enthusiasm from entering her voice.

  
    She had glanced at her again, from the corner of her eye, as if hesitant, debating whether Laura deserved the information or not.

  
    “Karnstein,” She had said.

  
    Laura dared not ask any more, as Carmilla had taken up an even more uncomfortable look than before. Instead she let her eyes drift to the hearth as well, a smile playing on her lips.

  
    “That’s a very lovely name,” She had told her, though her eyes had stared at her in great deliberation, “The Summerset Isles, you said? Are you an Elf, Carmilla?”

  
    She had not been sure, but she thought she saw the ghost of a smile pass over Carmilla’s lips at her words.

  
    “No, I’m not an Elf,”

  
    They sat again in silence, though it was much less awkward the second time around, placed as if naturally occurring, versus a sudden stand still. Then Carmilla coughed, and Laura was reminded again of the night previous.

  
    “Oh, I had forgotten. How are you feeling?” Laura asked, worry creeping across her brow.

  
    “Much better now, due to you and your family,” Her voice was a softer lull that had Laura melting, “Thank you for…cleaning me,” Her voice took an uncharacteristic hesitance, and she seemed to pull herself small.

  
    Laura looked at her questioningly, wondering how she had come by such information.

  
    At her confused look Carmilla had grinned, a suddenly delightful expression as the red of her lips parted, “There is no need for such a glance, sweetheart. Your brother and father can barely stand to look me in the eye when I am within the same room. It seemed highly unlikely they would be as brave as to take a cloth to my face,” She had laughed then, a short, delicate sound.

  
    Laura rolled her eyes.

  
    “You say that, but you don’t know how you looked when you fell into our home. Your face was that of a Mudcrab. I was surprised Skulvar didn’t just toss you back out,” She had quipped, joining in with her own giggles.

  
    “Whatever the case, it seems I picked the right doorstep to lose consciousness on,” Carmilla had offered, her laughter reduced to a warm smile that Laura had been inclined to return.

  
    The words sent another trickle of heat through Laura, slow burning and steady.

  
    “You are very welcome here, Carmilla Karnstein,” Laura stated, her tone genuine.

  
    No matter how rough around the edges she had at first appeared to be, Laura in no way attempted to deny the bizarre attractive forces she felt toward the girl.

  
    She could stay forever, Laura mused, and she would still think it inadequate.

  
    While Carmilla did not respond to her words, Laura took notice of a different light that entered the shadow of her eyes.

  
    It made her feel as if she had said the right thing.

  
    “Carmilla,” She started again with her name, mostly because she liked the way it came off of her tongue. The girl in question gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, “ If it does not bother you… what happened to put you in such a state and on our doorstep?”

  
    From the way Carmilla tensed, Laura would have thought she had offended the girl. But then there was a release, and she seemed to relax, turning tired eyes upon her.

  
    “I forget that you were not here this morning when I accounted the tale,” Her lips pushed together in contemplation then, as her brows relaxed from their spots on her forehead, “I was at Helgen,”

  
    It had been the second time that day that the attacked town had been mentioned to her. Laura’s eyes widened without command to do so, her breathing hitched.

  
    “You were at Helgen,” Laura repeated the statement, contemplating it as Carmilla watched her.

  
    “Yes,” Her voice was softer than before, without energy.

  
    “So… you saw it,” Another statement, another desire of immediate response.

  
    “Yes,” This time, her voice came even quieter than before, if it were possible.

  
    “A Dragon,” Laura’s voice, wild with disbelief, pressed on.

  
    She was met with silence this time, but it was all the confirmation she needed.

  
    For a while, the only sounds were that of the fire and the scuffing of Carmilla’s boot on the floor as she rocked it back and forth.

  
    “Were you afraid?” Now it was Laura’s turn to be small and hesitant.

  
    Carmilla graced her with a side glance, her face expressionless.

  
    “I thought it was going to kill me,” Was all she allowed. There was an answer there, Laura reasoned, just not one she knew enough about to extract yet.

  
    With time, she supposed, said ability would come.

   
    “I’m glad it didn’t,” She said the words without thinking, and more or less flinched the moment they graced the open air. She waited for the tension to grow thicker, for Carmilla to pull herself even smaller together. Instead, she was met with a smile once more.

  
    “You and me both, sweetheart,” She had said, and her voice had purred the words again, sending Laura’s heart fluttering.

  
    Laura’s mouth had opened once more again, to make another comment, to ask another question, when the door had flown open, and a raging Skulvar had stormed in, Jervar in pursuit.

  
    “DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?” Skulvar had roared.

  
    Laura had leapt to her feet instantaneously, fear suddenly sparking through her.

  
    She had forgotten about this inevitable confrontation.

  
    By the hearth, Carmilla had flinched once more, but had otherwise stayed seated, tucked inside the blanket as she observed.

  
    Laura felt her cheeks heat up as she blushed red, both from anger and embarrassment.

  
    “Skulvar, I had-”

  
    “NO!” He did not allow her to even begin to finish the sentence, “You do not speak. Do you know how long you were gone for?” His voice did not lose it’s edge.

  
    “Well, not exactly, but I can imagine-”

  
    “Fourteen hours! With a dragon running about! And you decide to go frolicking around for FOURTEEN HOURS,” He yelled.

  
    Laura shrunk away. While she was generally bold and a good deal defiant, she under no circumstances felt any tinge of bravery when it came to dealing with her adoptive father.

  
    “It wasn’t on purpose, I promise-”

  
    “I don’t care what it was. You were stupid, you were thoughtless, you were a _child_ , and I am finished putting up with your behavior,” At his words, Laura felt a bitter anger, hot and clawing, build it’s way up her throat and take her voice. She stood silent, mouth open, without sound.

  
    “I’ll have no more of it. No more riding. No more hunting. You’ll do your work and just that, as a proper women should. Now go to bed, there will be no supper,”

  
    Never had Skulvar taken such a tone with her before, nor had his words harmed her so. Hot tears pushed with vigor from the backs of her eyes, and she let her feet carry her to her room with speed, unwilling to cry in front of him.

  
    She slammed the door shut behind herself and sunk to the ground behind it, the reason _why_ she had been late in the first place coming to the forefront of her mind.

  
    Damn Danny and damn Skulvar and damn everyone.

  
    “I apologize, Lady Silas, that you were forced to bear witness to that,” Skulvar’s voice had been distant and shaky from Laura’s place on the floor, the back of her head pressed against her door.

  
    She had, however, heard perfectly clear the creak of the wood as someone had risen to their feet, heard the delicate shift of an intake of breath.

  
    “Oh, no need to apologize, good sir,” Carmilla’s voice had sounded, utterly sweet in it’s pronunciation, “ My mother was unreasonable as well, in our time together. It is something I have grown quite accustomed to,” She had continued on.

  
    Laura had frozen from her place at the door. No one, not even Jervar dared to speak such words to the stable master.

  
    Yet he never replied.

  
    “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I am rather worn out and I have lost my appetite. I’ll just retire to the room you have so graciously provided,” Laura had trembled at the lull of her voice, heard her take steps towards Jervar’s room before stopping once more.

  
    “Oh, and Sir Sable-Hilt, refer to me simply as Carmilla. I fear that under your expectations, I am in no way a lady,” Her footsteps had disappeared into Jervar’s room then, leaving behind a stony silence.

  
    From her place, Laura felt a smile spread across her face.

  
    Maybe everyone wasn’t damned after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, some helpful notes from the Skyrim wikia to help make clear that which is not. 
> 
> A Brief description of the races in Skyrim:  
> There are ten different races in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Each one possesses its own unique racial abilities and powers.
> 
> High Elves- Known as "Altmer" in their homeland of Summerset Isle, the High Elves are the most gifted in the arcane arts of all the races. They can call upon their Highborn power to regenerate Magicka quickly. 
> 
> Argonian- Enigmatic and intelligent, the Argonians are lizards, and are experts at guerrilla warfare. Their natural abilities suit their swampy homeland, Black Marsh. They have developed immunities to the diseases that have doomed many would-be explorers in the region, and they are capable of easily exploring underwater locations due to their ability to breathe water.
> 
> Wood Elf- Bosmer (or, more commonly, Wood Elves) are the elven people of Valenwood. They prefer a simple existence, living in harmony with the land and wild animals.
> 
> Breton- Bretons are a race of both human and elven ancestry. They populate the province of High Rock. They are excellent mages with high magic resistance but have few other distinctive features. 
> 
> Dark Elves- The Dunmer, more commonly referred to as Dark Elves, are the dark skinned elven natives of the province of Morrowind. After the eruption of Red Mountain, many Dunmer fled to Skyrim, becoming refugees.
> 
> Imperial- Natives of the cosmopolitan province of Cyrodiil, the Imperials are some of the most well-educated, wealthy and well-spoken of the races in Tamriel. Imperials are also known for their discipline and training of their citizen armies.
> 
> Khajiit- One of the beast races which inhabit the continent of Tamriel, primarily their home province of Elsweyr. They are recognizable by their feline appearance and their sly accent. Along with the Argonians, they are referred to as the beast-races of Skyrim. Because of this, Khajiit have a negative public image. 
> 
> Nord- A race that were led to Skyrim by Ysgramor. They are tall, fair-haired and pale skinned humans from Atmora who are known for their incredible resistance to cold and even magical frost.
> 
> Orc- The Orsimer (more commonly known as Orcs), are the native people of the Wrothgarian and Dragontail Mountains. Despite historical misconceptions, they are in fact a variant of elves or mer, hence the name Orsimer, meaning "Pariah Folk". Following in the footsteps of Trinimac, and subsequently Malacath, Orcs have consistently held a standard as a race as some of Tamriel's greatest warriors and smiths. 
> 
> Redguards- hail from the great desert province of Hammerfell. They are descended from a long line of warriors and mystic seers. Legend has it that Redguards are innately more proficient with the use of weaponry than any other race. They excel in all arts concerning blade and shield.
> 
> Helgen- a moderately-sized community in Falkreath Hold in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. It was one of the only heavily inhabited settlements located in Falkreath Hold, apart from the city of Falkreath itself and Half-Moon Mill. It is destroyed in the prologue. Helgen is the first location the Dragonborn will visit at the beginning of the game. 
> 
> Sabre-Cat- a fierce, brave beast that roams the wilds of Skyrim, known for attacking travelers who stray too far into their territory. 
> 
> Mudcrab- An unappealing large species of crab, known for their ability to disguise themselves as rocks, allowing them to catch unsuspecting prey.


	3. Act I, Scene iii: Bleak Falls Barrow Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim AU, in which Carmilla is the Dragonborn and Laura is the daughter of the stable master in Whiterun. She dreams of adventure, Carmilla never wanted any of this madness, and somewhere along the way they fall in love and save their world from destruction.

ACT I

Scene iii: Bleak Falls Barrow Part I

    Laura had woken up late that day.

  
    It had been unusual for her, as she had often been out and about before the sun dared to break completely over the crest of the east hillside.

  
    Today, however, there hadn’t been much worth going out after.

  
    Danny would be making her way for Hjaalmarch, leaving behind Windhelm for the first time in her life, bringing with her only her horse and her sword and her shield, and of course the Summer Society.

  
     No one could dream of separating them.

  
    Her adventures would just be beginning. She would travel everywhere with the Stormcloaks, explore everything and, under the circumstances that the Stormcloaks prevailed, would liberate her homeland. It would be the journey of a lifetime.

  
    Meanwhile, Laura would be stuck at home, sweeping the dirt floor until Skulvar was satisfied, keeping herself small and out of the way till the day she died.

  
     Or, even worse, until she married one of the idiot boys within Whiterun.

  
    In the end, the only thing that had pulled her from her bed had been Carmilla, something that had become a recurring theme within her life.

  
    She had crept from her room to the kitchen area cautiously, keeping an eye out for Skulvar.

  
    She had found instead, as usual, Jervar.

  
    He had stood cleaning up after breakfast, a pile of cold hotcakes to his left, no doubt intended for her.

  
    As she had made herself known he had turned to her, regarding her with worried, sad eyes that had caused a heavy weight to settle in the pit of her stomach.

  
    He had offered her the hotcakes wordlessly, a sigh passing through his lips.

  
    “Eat these, you’ll need it. Skulvar’s devised quite the list of tasks that need accomplishing,” He had said, and Laura had sat down to eat with a pout.

  
    “Where’s Carmilla? Is she up yet?” She had asked, forking a bite of the hotcakes into her mouth.

  
    In their cold state, they had been bland and almost bitter, like unripe fruit.

  
    Jervar hadn’t answered her, had just kept scrubbing away at a plate, his voice attempting to hum but failing.

  
    “Jervar?” Her voice had been more insistent, “Where’s Carmilla?”

  
    The first sign that something had been wrong was that Jervar had dropped the plate, his shoulders hunching up as he had drawn in a breath.

  
    He had turned then, eyes dark and flitting.

  
    “I am afraid that Lady Silas will no longer be staying with us,” He had said, and Laura had watched him silently, waiting for explanation, “It appears she was in Helgen awaiting excecution. Skulvar has taken her to the Jarl, where she will… answer for her crimes,”

  
    Laura had stared at him, frozen, taking him in.

  
    He had looked rougher than usual, with an odd sharpness to his jaw, a harder look in his eyes. His lips, usually thrown up in a careless smile, had been pressed downwards in a tight frown.

  
    She had not recognized him.

  
    She had turned then and fled to the safety of her room, and had set about to uprooting the floor boards where she kept her bow stored.

  
    When she had managed to pull up all the boards, she had found the space below them empty.

  
    Jervar had appeared behind her after a time, shame in his eyes.

  
    “I think…Laura, I think he sold it,”

  
    Laura had sat still for a while, her eyes fixed on the floor, as if somehow she could will the weapon back into place.

  
    “Not my bow,” Her voice had been quiet, almost inaudible as a sob had broken from her chest.

  
    Her bow had been everything to her. It had been her first freedom next to riding Alfsigr.

  
    The thought of the horse had Laura motionless as Skulvar’s parting words to her had repeated themselves in her head.

  
    No hunting. No riding.

  
    “Alfsigr,” She knew the instant the name had slipped from her tongue and Jervar had shut his eyes that the mare had been gone, or would very soon be going.

  
    “She’s been sold. To a farmer from Markarth. She goes tomorrow morning,” His words had been softer, sadder.

  
    Laura had leaned back on the heels of her palms, her head low, tears freely flowing as she bit back as many sobs as she could manage.

  
    Jervar had moved quickly down to her height, had wrapped her up in his arms, and she had clung to him as she cried.

  
    “He’ll come around, Laura. You know him, he’s all empty threats. He’ll bring the bow back, he won’t sell Alfsigr,”

  
    While they were the two wrongs that had held the most meaning to Laura, she had found her greatest concern to be Carmilla.

  
    “And what of Carmilla? Will he come around when they’ve taken her to the block?” Her voice had stilled over the girl’s name.

  
    Jervar had fixed her with a conflicted expression.

  
    “What do you care of Carmilla? She’s a criminal, Laura, here all of two days, one of which you were completely missing for,” He had said.

  
    Laura had opened her mouth to fight him on the matter, to defend the integrity of the girl, when she had realized he was right.

  
    In the grand span of her life, she had known Carmilla all of five minutes, most of which the other girl spent her time alluding to her through the use of pet names and expressing herself through the use of extremely attractive eyebrow movements.

  
    Of her character, her actual being, Laura had known nothing.

  
    And yet, she had cared.

  
    At the thought of her demise, no, even at her possible demise, something had roared to life within her chest. Something big, with ice blue eyes and teeth that had bitten, something with fire in it’s lungs that had burned entire holds. It had been something strong, something to be reckoned with.

  
    It had been something to be feared.

  
    “She was a guest in our home,” Laura’s voice had trembled, “We took her in and let her feel safe, and then she stood up for me, Jervar. No one ever stands up for me, not against Skulvar, anyways. And he’ll have her killed for it,” There had been a moment of silence that followed the statement, one in which the two siblings had regarded each other carefully.

  
    “Your father would kill someone over his pride,” Her voice had not wavered at the declaration, but mercifully held firm.

  
    Jervar had swallowed, squaring his jaw.

  
    “He is your father too,”

  
    Laura had picked herself up off the ground, had wiped at her tears with a careless hand, had kicked the wooden planks back into place where they had landed askew.

  
    She had met Jervar’s gaze simply.

  
    “Not by blood,”

  
    Jervar had stood unmoving then, as if turned to stone, and Laura had gone to move past him before stopping at the door as Jervar had turned to face her.

  
    “And what would you have had me do? This is just the way life is here, Laura,” His voice had been softer, almost scared.

  
    She had turned to him without remorse, without fear.

  
    “You think this is a life, Jervar? Doing Skulvar’s work for him, cooking and cleaning and tending the horses, receiving no money or credit? By Talos, you act more like his wife than his son,” She had not stopped her words, even as he had flinched, “And you must know he thinks you spineless, incapable. He won’t ever let you be stable master, you and I both know it. He’d sooner leave the stable to the horses themselves than to you. But he won’t let you leave either, won’t let you join the Stormcloaks because the family supports the Imperials. And so where does that leave you, Jervar?” Her voice had been little as tears had spilled onto her cheeks, but the words that had fallen from her mouth hadn’t stung her as much as she had thought they would.

  
    “It leaves you with a spoon and a cooking pot,” She had said, “ It leaves you with nothing,”

  
    The silence that had inhabited the room was deadly. Laura had watched uncertainly as Jervar’s face had turned a shade of red she had never before seen.

  
    “I want something different,”

  
    The words had seemed to fill up all of the rooms spaces, and Laura had suddenly wished she had never spoken them.

  
    “Do you think that’s what we wanted, Skulvar and I? Do you think we wanted nothing?” For the first time in her life, Laura had watched tears build up behind Jervar’s eyes. While they had always been a calm blue when looking at Laura, they had turned to storm, “Do you forget all the things we did for you? Skulvar took you in when no one else would. We accepted you, made you one of our own. We let you go on using your ridiculous surname, let you do things no decent minded person would allow. Is this what you have to show for it? A hateful heart, an uncaring mind? We never wanted nothing, Laura. We only wanted you,”

  
    At his words, a tinge of remorse had crept it’s way deep into Laura’s being.

  
    “Your father-Skulvar, as you so eloquently put it, has only ever done anything in his life to protect you, and it’s the same with me. Why do you think I did not join the Stormcloaks years ago? Why do you think Skulvar has not retired yet? You have cost us our lives, Laura, nothing else,” His volume and anger had increased as the horrible feelings had filled Laura to the brim.

  
    She had gone to speak, to apologize maybe, but Jervar had cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  
    “But go, Laura of Hollis, pack your things and be gone. Live the life you so deeply desire, and don’t come running back when you find out it was nothing like you thought it would be,” With his parting words, Jervar had been gone, the door slamming shut in his wake.

  
    Laura had felt too numb to cry as she had packed her things. She had taken very little, at first only as many apples as she could carry, then four pieces of goat cheese and three loaves of bread, and finally two flagons of water before she added a third filled with mead.

  
    She had packed all of her socks and underwear, three undershirts, her thickest riding pants and her quiver of arrows.

  
    She had wrapped herself in her light brown cloak, the finest clothing item she owned. It had been soft and warm, with rabbit fur lining the insides and grey fox fur along the hood. The buttons had been made of ivory from a mammoth tusk, and painted black to match the cloak.

  
    All too little to go about the rest of her life, yet she had not dared to carry more.

  
    She had stashed all of her items outside her window in a bush. There were still things to be done, after all. Items to be collected, things to be disposed of.

  
    People to be bid farewell.

  
    For the very first time, she had felt grateful Danny had left. She wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye to the red headed girl under such circumstances.

  
    Variables that were uncontrollable, such as Danny leaving Laura behind, that had been fine. But anything that was controlled, as in her leaving behind Danny, would be too much to bear.

  
    When she had imagined actually having to choose to say goodbye to those big blue eyes, something deep within her heart had welled up and toppled over.

  
    Briefly, she had considered traveling to Hjaalmarch and convincing Danny to run away with her. They could spend their days roaming, adventuring, and no one would ever get the chance to hurt either of them ever again.

  
    Such thoughts were the most selfish Laura had ever had. Danny had lived and breathed for the Stormcloak’s and their cause since she was old enough to understand what they were and what they stood for. Putting such thoughts into her head, or Talos forbid it, actually taking her away from them when she had finally joined, would be the cruelest thing Laura could do to her.

  
    No, she would head for Riften, back to Honorhall Orphanage. It was where she had dwelled before Skulvar had found her, even tinier than she was now and eternally alone. She would return there and look for work, and if all else failed, the woods were rich in flora and fauna alike. She could live off the land if need be.

  
    But first, she would say goodbye.

  
    The Khajiit caravan had been located directly across from the stables for as long as Laura could remember. The first time she had met the cat people, she had been horrified. They had terrified her, and having something acute to a monster living right outside of her home was enough to keep her up fussing every night, no matter how many times Jervar assured her they were friendly. Eventually, Skulvar had dragged her over to meet them, completely against her will, and she had screamed and sobbed until one of them- his name she had long forgotten- had given her a taffy treat.

  
    She had eaten it quite happily, and after that considered them her complete and truest friends.

  
    It was Ahkari, however, for whom she had loved the most. With fur as black as the night and eyes greener than the forests, the Khajiit was effortlessly kind and infinitely wise. She had told Laura constant stories as she grew up- whenever it was too cold or rainy to play outside or Laura was simply bored, she would head over and Ahkari would humor her for a few hours, letting her touch and play with some of the merchandise she sold as she fed her little treats and told her stories of her homeland, Elsweyr, a great stretch of desert located well outside of Tamriel.

  
    As she had grown older her visits had become less frequent, yet she had still felt she owed her a proper goodbye, and a thank you for all she had done for her.

  
    Heading over dressed in her fine cloak, Laura had felt more out of place than ever.

  
    Ahkari had been in her usual tent, sitting cross legged, her eyes fixed on the outside world. She had smiled effortlessly as Laura entered the tent, her lips pulling up to reveal pearled fangs.

  
    “Laura,” She had stated warmly, in her heavy foreign accent, “To what does Ahkari owe this pleasure?”

  
    Laura had offered her a sad smile.

  
    “I’m afraid I’ve come to say goodbye,” The words had felt thick on her tongue, out of place and unordered, as if they had wished not to be uttered.

  
    The Khajiit had offered her a confused glance.

  
    “Ahkari was not aware Laura was leaving Whiterun. For what reasons has Skulvar decided to depart?” Her words had been laced with affection and worry, and it had made Laura’s heart ache.

  
    “Oh no, only I am leaving,” Her words had been little, small.

  
    She had, in all honesty, expected the Khajiit to appear a bit more startled than she did. Instead, Ahkari had simply nodded her broad head.

  
    “Within Ahkari’s homeland, all of our young eventually take their leave from home. They start their own adventures,”

  
    Laura had given her a tight smile.

  
    When she had been younger, she had often imagined leaving home. It had been under better circumstances. She hadn’t been alone, within those fantasies. She had had Danny by her side, and Alfsigr, and the blessing of her father and brother. She had their love, their protection. She had a destination, a goal, something to accomplish.  
    It was much easier, she had realized then, to dream about leaving home when there was still one to leave behind.

  
    Across from her, Ahkari had risen from her position on the ground. She had gone to the back of her tent, opened up one of the multiple ebony chests, and had fished around within their contents.

  
    When she had pulled away, her hands had clutched two objects.

  
    “A gift,” She had rasped, “Ahkari hopes it may see you safe on your travels,”

  
    The first item had been a coin purse, a warm, brown, velvety thing with hide strings that, when Laura loosened, revealed a startling collection of gold coins and smaller gem stones, among them a ruby, an amethyst, a sapphire. Upon a mere glance, Laura had immediately attempted to hand it back.

  
    “No, no. It’s far too much, I could never accept this,” She had said, but as quickly as she had done so, Ahkari had been shaking her head, her paws carefully pushing Laura’s hands closed over the pouch.

  
    “Ahkari insists. Bad omens come about if Laura refuses such a gift. Better Laura be embarrassed with taking it and later need it, then to let pride keep Laura from taking it and later have need for it, but not have it,” The Kahjiit had spoken gently, but with an intensity that had Laura accepting the present after all.

  
    Ahkari had held up the necklace that remained, a grim smile on her features.

  
    “This was for Ahkari’s son. Kuli’kol never grew old enough to take it. Kuli’kol died young. Now Laura will take Kuli’kol’s necklace, and may it gain Laura the favor of the Gods,”

  
    The necklace had been a beautiful, small gold disk, it’s face littered with hundreds of tiny diamonds that came together to produce the Kahjiit sun god, Alkosh. It had sat on an equally as appealing gold chain, and had seemed to glow with the strength of the sun.

  
    Laura had accepted this gift without question, her heart giving a tinge at the kindness Ahkari had showed her.

  
    “Thank you, Ahkari,” Laura had said as she had fastened the chain around her neck. The disk had rested against the center of her chest, and had felt warm, safe, “I don’t know what to say,”

  
    The Kahjiit had given a gentle purr, and had proceeded to pull Laura into her arms for a hug.

  
    “Ahkari loves Laura. Ahkari wants Laura to be safe, so one day Laura can come and see Ahkari again,”

  
    Laura had taken her leave after that, dangerously close to crying once again, and after all that had happened, she was growing rather tired of her tears.

  
    And so, she had come to stand outside of Whiterun, gazing up at the high walls that had once made her feel so safe. Somewhere along the way, they had become a cage, one she yearned to escape from. Yet now, at the actual prospect of leaving… they hadn’t seemed so oppressive anymore. They had looked like home again. They had looked like-

  
    Carmilla.

  
    As she had stared up at Dragonsreach, the Jarl’s palace, thoughts of the raven-haired girl had flooded her mind. She was still up there, and in what state Laura had no idea.  
    She would save her though. Save her and free her. Then, and only then could she leave.

  
    She wouldn’t let her die for something that had not been her fault.

  
    She would come at night, during the guard switch, when everyone else was asleep and then, well, she would do something, anything.

  
    It had only been noon, however, so she had gone to Riverwood.

   
    Without the aid of Alfsigr, it had taken Laura nearly triple the amount of time to walk as it would to ride, and frankly caused such annoyance that she almost considered turning back. After all, there were wolves in the forest, and she was without her bow.

  
    But she owed it to Perry and LaFontaine to say goodbye. Things were scary enough without her sudden and random absence to deter them.

  
    She had made it there in two hours, and found them where they would usually be- down by the river, tucked away within the expanse of the forest, with LaF performing some bizarre experiment on a frog and Perry looking on quite fearfully.

  
    “I really do not think that is what the book said to do, sweetie, maybe you-”

  
    “No,” LaFontaine’s voice had cut across Perry’s, “It has to be. Let me just try one more time,”

  
    They had uttered a few random, butchered words and had cursed as smoke unfurled from their hands, and the frog had hopped away calmly.

  
    “Ow! Perry, I burnt my hand. I burnt it, I think it fell off, ow,” LaF’s whimpering had in no way decreased until the moment Perry grabbed their hand, sighing.

  
    “I knew this would happen, this is what always happens,” Perry’s voice had guided Laura forwards, and as she had approached she had smiled.

  
    From the moment they had known about it, LaFontaine had wanted to be a mage. They loved magic, and spell books, and could talk for hours about Soul Gems and whether or not their taking and application to weaponry was ethical.

  
    When they had turned sixteen, they had begged to be sent off to the College of Winterhold, to study and learn magic. Their father Alvor, the local blacksmith, had had other ideas. In his eyes, LaFontaine was to be his successor. Instead of sending them off to the College, they had gotten a blacksmith apron.

  
    Needless to say, their hunger for magic had in no way decreased as the years had gone on. Five years later they were still coveting spell books and forcing Perry to supervise as they attempted to learn the spells.

  
    The problem was that without any instruction, they just weren’t very good. They came away hurt and inflicted with various illnesses half the time, and while generally Perry was able to put them back together again, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

  
    Luckily, this time they had simply scorched their hand.

  
    “My father is going to kill me,” LaF had groaned as Laura had walked closer to them, still undiscovered, “I won’t be able to forge anything for at least two weeks,”

  
    Perry had not been feeling very sympathetic this time around.

  
    “Well maybe if you would stop playing around with magic- when you have no understanding of it to begin with- you wouldn’t be in so much trouble all the time,” Her words had been short and curt.

  
    Laura, knowing not to let LaFontaine speak in any sort of defense, lest a fight ensue between the two of them, chose at that moment to speak up.

  
    “LaFontaine, Perry,” Her voice had called out to them in greeting, and both ginger heads had swiveled over to where she had stood, smiling.

  
    “Laura,” Perry, while not looking up from where she had dressed LaFontaine’s hand, had managed a smile as she greeted her, “We were wondering when we would see you again,”

  
    “Still no signs of the dragon around here?” Laura had replied, returning Perry’s greeting with a wave.

  
    “Nope,” LaFontaine had responded, a grin stretching across their features, “Riverwood is currently lizard free, for the moment,”  
    “Good,” Laura had said, giggling.

  
    She had sat beside her friends then, her chest aching at the familiarity, and at the fact that she would so soon be saying goodbye.

  
    Perhaps, Laura mused, this was the way Danny had felt when saying goodbye to her.

  
    She had dismissed the notion quickly.

  
    However much she loved Perry and LaFontaine, what she felt for Danny, and what she believed Danny felt for her, was a completely different feeling than the one she felt now.

  
    This had hurt just a little more, had stung in different places, and prompted different tears.

  
    “So,” LaFontaine’s expression had become the usual one they wore whenever Laura was around- a bright, open mouthed grin, “What do you want to do? Magic is completely out of bounds for today, or Perry will kill us,” They had paused a bit, giving Laura room to laugh and Perry space to glare, “Where’s Alfsigr? I really think I’m ready to try mounted combat, I was reading about it the other day,”

  
    At the mention of the black mare, Laura had visibly flinched. It shut LaFontaine up immediately, had both them and Perry staring at her, confused.

  
    “Actually,” She had fought to keep her voice firm and steady, “That’s kind of what I came here for,”

  
    “What, did you lose her?” LaFontaine’s voice had been less serious as they joked, but they stopped when Laura’s expression remained fixed.

  
    “No, it’s just… I’m leaving,”

  
    “Leaving what?” Perry’s voice had been kind and confused, and it almost had Laura incapable of speaking.

  
    “Whiterun,”

  
    There had been a moment of silence in which both their heads turned simultaneously to look at the other. It was a glance that had never been shared with Laura, or anyone else for that matter, and was one she had long become accustomed too.

  
    “Well, why on earth would you do that?” LaFontaine’s voice had been incredulous, like she was waiting for Laura to get to the punch line of a joke.

  
    “I just… I have to leave,” She had steeled herself to come off unaffected, but rapidly began to fail.

  
    Another glance had been cast between the two of them.

  
    “Okay,” Perry’s voice had been careful, “And where are you going to go?”

  
    “I, uh, Riften. I’m going to Riften,” She had almost smiled at the fact that she finally had some sort of answer to their questions.

  
    “Off to join the Thieves Guild then, are we?” LaFontaine’s voice had been hard this time, sarcastic and borderline rude.

  
    Laura had fixed them with a glare, her eyes narrowing.

  
    “It’s not funny,” She had almost been grateful for the change of mood. It made it easier not to let them see how scared she was, how uncertain.

  
    “Who said I was trying to be funny?” LaF’s voice had snapped.

  
    “When are you not trying to be funny?” Perry had bit back at them, a look of warning in her eyes.

  
    LaFontaine had looked away then, scoffing as they brushed the hair from their eyes.

  
    “I just have to leave, okay? It’s not because I want to I just… I don’t belong here anymore,” Her voice had been soft, desperate.

  
    “Okay,” Again, Perry’s voice had been so careful, so concerned, “Okay Laura. That’s okay,” She had reached out to her, grabbed her wrist lightly as Laura had swallowed hard.  
    “Where do you belong, then?” LaF’s voice had asked a question Laura couldn’t answer, “In Riften? Right back where you first started? Without a family or friend to help you?” Their voice had been scathing, and Laura had shrunk away, nervous.

  
    “I don’t know, LaFontaine. But I want to find it,” Her statements had grown shorter the more uncertain she had become.

  
    “Is Danny going with you?” Perry had asked. It had been the wrong question to ask, and then suddenly Laura had been crying.

  
    Again.

  
    “Danny’s gone. She joined the Stormcloaks. She’s not going anywhere with me,” Laura had more or less whimpered the phrase, quickly becoming distraught.

  
    Perry’s lingering hand had turned into a full out hug.

  
    “It’s okay, Laura. It’s okay to leave. You can always come back, I promise,” Perry’s voice had been the only steady one she had heard that day besides Ahkari’s. She had melted into the embrace, too tired and relieved to fight it.

  
    She had heard sniffling then, and it wasn’t her own. Her eyes had flickered up to find LaFontaine crying as well, something she had rarely seen before. Their eyes had widened when Laura had looked at them, and she had found herself suddenly squashed between the only friends she had left.

  
    After a few minutes she had managed to pull herself together. After all, it had been getting late, and she needed to go get Carmilla.

  
    She had nudged weakly at Perry’s arms then, reluctant and suddenly cold as both she and LaFontaine had let go.

  
    “Just, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?” LaFontaine had asked her, wiping at their eyes.

  
    For this statement, Laura had managed a wide grin.

  
    “Oh yeah, I’m sure that will keep me safe. When is anything you do ever questionable?” Laura had been more cheerful with her words, and as a result LaFontaine had smiled.

  
    “Are you bringing enough with you? Do you have enough clean underwear? I cannot stress the importance of clean underwear-”

  
    “Divines, Perry,” LaFontaine had broken through her words as quickly as they had heard them, “I think she’s got it figured out,” They had stated as Laura had laughed, her cheeks flushed a gentle pink.

  
    They had stood in silence, unsure how to continue, until LaFontaine spoke up. Pulling a sheathed dagger from their side, they had held it up to Laura.

  
    “Here, you should take this. I was going to give it to Danny, but I guess she’s gone, huh? It’s an Orcish Dagger of the Burning, you hit something hard enough and it will catch fire. It’s not much but… it’s something,” They had looked uncertain for a moment, unsure.

  
    Laura had reached forward immediately to grab it from them, smiling softly.

  
    “It’s perfect. Thank you, LaF,”

  
    Perry had reached for her again then, planting a gentle kiss to her cheek.

  
    “Take care of yourself, write to us if you need anything, and don’t forget to come back sometime,” She had told her sternly, and Laura had found herself nodding.

  
    “Yeah, sometime,” She had promised them.

  
    She had turned then, after strapping the dagger to her side, and had headed out to cross the river again. She had offered them one last wave, her hand not getting very high up as tears had blotted out her vision.

  
    “I’ll miss you,” She had called out.

  
    “We love you, Laura,”

  
    It had been everything she hadn’t thought she needed to know, and exactly what she had needed to hear.

  
    She had left them with a smile on her face.

  
                    * * *

  
    She had arrived back at Whiterun close to midnight, her eyes drooping from fatigue and her legs aching from the exertion of the walk.

  
    Dread had pooled in her stomach as she realized her walk had only just begun.

  
    She had been scared, with nothing barring her from leaving.

  
    Well, with the exception of Carmilla.

  
    The thought of the girl had her hurrying. Had she been in Carmilla’s place, she would have wanted to be rescued as soon as possible.

  
    She had come upon the stables quicker than expected. In the dark light, with only the hearth shining through the glass pane windows, it had been easy to pretend it was a foreign place, one she had never know and that never knew her.

  
    It had made it easier, she supposed, to walk away from it.

  
    She had stolen through into the stable yard silently, her boots crunching softly against fresh fallen snow. It had been cold as a result, with the sky still shedding the occasional flake, and she had been glad for her cloak when she pulled it tight and it effectively shut out the cold.

  
    Her feet knew the way to her window, they had taken her their without thought, and from that point she had dug around the bush and pulled out her knapsack, which she had then slung over her shoulders.

  
    That had been it. There had been nothing else.

  
    She had given the structure one long, hard glance. She had expected to feel something at this point, but surprisingly, she had felt void of any and everything.

  
    She had just been.

  
    At that thought, everything changed.

  
    She was free now, free to do anything and be everything. No one could dictate her life, it would be solely in her own hands.

  
    Speaking of hands, one had reached around her face and closed itself over her mouth, blocking out all sound as she had tried to scream.

  
    A body, small and soft, had pressed hard against her back and had gripped her firmly, tugging her head back towards itself.

  
    Immediately Laura had thrashed, her mouth opened in a strangled scream as she had fought off her attacker. The body behind her had flailed as well, relaxing all but the hand over her mouth, and Laura had finally been able to raise an elbow and throw it hard against the body behind her.

  
    A loud “oomph” had resulted as Laura whipped around, fumbling for her dagger. In the darkness, she could in no way make out her opponent.

  
    “Divines, for such a little thing, you sure know how to throw an elbow, cutie,” The voice had been feminine, and had a familiar rasp that could belong to no other.

  
    Suddenly, with an audible snap, a small fiery light had illuminated the small space around Laura, and her assumptions had immediately been affirmed.

  
    Mere inches from her, golden brown eyes had stared unabashedly back at her.

  
    “Carmilla,” The word had slipped across her tongue before she could stop it.

  
    “Laura,” The girl had all but purred back, her lips pulled up in a smug smirk. She had been everything Laura remembered her to be and more, from the strength of her eyes to the pull of her lips.

  
    At the sight of her, her heart took flight, and a happy giggle had escaped it’s way from her mouth as she had more or less thrown herself at the other girl, trapping her in her arms and pulling her close, the light disappearing as she did so.

  
    The girl had given a happy hum in response, her arms moving to seize Laura firmly by the middle and pull her just as close, her body warm and withholding nothing.

  
    “That is more the response I was expecting, sweetness,” Carmilla had spoken the words into the corner of Laura’s forehead, and her lips had been cold as they touched her skin.

  
    Laura had gone to pull back against her then, struggling in the lack of light, and when Carmilla had not relinquished her she had wormed her way out more forcefully.

  
    Once she had been free, an entire three seconds had gone by before she heard the snap again, and as the light returned, Laura had taken note of where it came from.

  
    Within the palm of her hand, outstretched in the way one would hold a candle, Carmilla had balanced a ball of fire. It had bathed her in it’s glow, lit up all of her loveliest features, and had made Laura’s heart beat that much faster.

  
    She had gawked at the display, having never before seen such a sight. She had thought of LaFontaine with a pang, and had imagined how excited they would have been to witness such power.

  
    “You’re a mage?” Her voice had carried over her incredulous nature.

  
    Carmilla had smiled her cat smile, eyes lighting up at the words, lips pulling back to reveal teeth.

  
    “Among other things,” She had taken a step away from Laura then, and while she had immediately missed the closeness, it had given her a moment to take her in.

  
    For someone who had somehow escaped yet another execution, she hadn’t looked it.

  
    Her hair had been made decent, the black strands falling in even, neat, wavy patterns. Her cheeks had been flushed pink with health, her lips full again, her eyes bright. She had shed her old clothing, and now wore a beautiful piece of fur armor that Laura had recognized to be from Warmaidens, the blacksmith within Whiterun. The piece had been grey and soft, and served as protective gear as well as a cloak. A long hood, fitted with thick rabbit fur, had drooped gracefully along the back of it, while the front had been firmer, made first of leather, and then covered in a light layer of snow fox pelt.

  
    It had been gorgeous armor, and made her look just as appealing.

  
    At her waist, a steel sword had sat in it’s sheathe beside an iron banded shield, and across her back had laid an oddly familiar weapon.

  
    “Is that my bow?” Again, her voice had been filled with surprise.

  
    Carmilla’s smile had grown bigger and her eyes had stayed fixed on Laura’s for a slightly longer amount of time before flitting in all different directions.

  
    “It might be,” As she had spoken the words she had handed her the bow, and immediately, Laura had recognized it to be her own. She had clutched it tightly, exasperated.  
    “But how did you…how have you done anything? I was on my way to rescue you, and here you are, perfectly fine,” She had almost found it in herself to huff, but had steeled herself instead, her curiosity winning out.

  
    Carmilla had just laughed softly at her.

  
    “As you probably already know, sweetness, I have a way with words. Skulvar, however, does not,” And at the statement, her laughter had slightly grown, “I think, had I felt it necessary, I could have convinced Jarl Balgruuf to have Skulvar killed instead,” She had snickered then, but quickly stopped when she saw Laura frown, “But I didn’t,” Her words had been spoken quickly, almost in a panic as she had seen the displeasure spread throughout Laura’s features.

  
    “Okay,” Laura had suddenly found herself hesitant, “So you got them to release you?”

  
    “Obviously,” Carmilla’s voice had been, for a moment, slightly rude. It had softened as she had continued, “For a small price. I have to fetch his court wizard something, and I’ll be cleared of all charges. Trivial, really,” She had mused.

  
    Laura had found herself staring at her for a moment, this time in confusion.

  
    “He gave you a quest?”

  
    Carmilla had been staring absentmindedly down at the fire in her hands, frowning as it dwindled. She had blown a puff of air, smiling as the fire had seemed to reignite and grow larger. At the look of awe in Laura’s eyes, her smile had widened.

  
    “Yup. I’m off to Bleak Falls Barrow, wherever that is, to recover the Dragonstone, whatever that could be. Apparently, they enjoyed the fact that I was able to survive a run in with one of those overgrown salamanders. They gave me the armor for free, and the weapons. They even threw in your bow when I asked,”

  
    At this, Laura’s brow had wrinkled in confusion again.

  
    “But why would you ask for my bow? Why are you even here, Carmilla?” Her words had seemed to snap the girl back to attention, and she had inhaled a great breath.

  
    “Oh, right. I knew I was forgetting something,” Carmilla had grinned almost apologetically, and holding the hand that had held the fire away from her, had stolen back into Laura’s space.

  
    Her hands had found her waist again, had pulled her face closer to her own. Laura, despite her uncertainty, had found herself either unable or unwilling to move as she had stared into warm brown eyes.

  
    “How would you like to come on an adventure with me?”

  
                * * *

  
    “That is not how you do it,”

  
    “Well, sweetheart, you are welcome to show me how,”

  
    Carmilla had been poorly attempting to saddle Alfsigr as quietly as possible, using only one hand while the other continued to nurse the small fire that licked at her palm.  
    Alfsigr had been no help, the mare dancing about, fearful of the flames and deaf to Carmilla’s cursing for the creature to keep still.

  
    Laura had pushed the girl out of the way lightly, her hands immediately replacing Carmilla’s as she had saddled the mare, and the horse had calmed considerably under her familiar fingers.

  
    “We should not be doing this,” Laura had muttered, risking a glance at Carmilla.

  
    As her eyes had wandered over, the dark haired girl’s lips had split into an open grin. She had leaned a hand against Alfsigr’s flank, resting casually there, playing with the fire in her hand.

  
    “And why is that, cutie?” She had hummed, her eyes watching her with a nervous quality as they had danced all around the stables, only keeping contact with her own briefly.

  
    “Nothing good comes from stealing,” Laura had replied, her eyes fixed on the girth of the saddle as she had pulled it tight and into place.

  
    “I beg to differ,” Carmilla had scoffed, the movement brushing the hair from her eyes, the fire’s reflection causing them to glow an alluring, unnatural orange, “I am stealing you, am I not?” She had questioned, and she had smirked as Laura had ducked her head, her cheeks going red at the words.

  
    Laura had said nothing in reply. The girl had a point, she supposed.

  
    The night had not been young, the moon having passed it’s highest point long ago, and the fact had made Laura uncertain.

  
    She had never been out in such darkness.

  
    The world looked different, shielded by black, like some villain out of a story book, seemingly endless and with the power to do great harm.

  
    It simply hadn’t been natural for her. She had been a hunter who loved her light, and the fire that had danced within Carmilla’s palm, while endlessly fascinating, had grown smaller and smaller in Laura’s eyes when compared with the brilliance of the sun.

  
    Carmilla had noticed the falter in Laura’s movements, and had ducked down, precariously close as always, to inspect her.

  
    “Something wrong, little lamb?” She had murmured, her lips a poisonous red, the kind that warned one to stay away, “You afraid of the dark?”

  
    From where she had been almost certain Carmilla could not see, she had given a weak shrug of her shoulders.

  
    The girl seemed to notice the movement, however- she seemed to notice everything, really- and allowed a soft laugh.

  
    “No need to fear. I am a creature of the night,” At the words she had pressed even closer, and Laura had felt her skin crawl, “I’ll protect you from the shadows,” She had hummed, her head tilted gently to the side, eyes wide with a light that had Laura struggling to form a coherent thought.

  
    “Right,” She had eventually slurred out as she had pushed the girl away, her hands unsteady as she forced distance between them, “Well, the night creature can go wait over there until Alfsigr’s been saddled,” She had said, in what she hoped had been a strong tone.

  
    Carmilla had laughed at her, but had complied with her wishes, stepping smoothly off to the side to let her finish.

  
    Without the constant presence of Carmilla, Laura finished saddling the mare with ease, and had gripped the mare’s reins with a strong hand as she had led her from the stables, Carmilla in tow, and a large lump settling itself into her throat as she looked nervously around.

  
    Alfsigr had been the first thing of value Laura had ever stolen. It had felt wrong to take her, especially from Skulvar.

  
    “What?” Carmilla had snapped as Laura had expressed her feelings, almost angry at the words, “ You think a better life awaits her at the bottom of some mineshaft in Markarth?” She had asked, her voice not bothering to hide it’s cruelty, and at the thought of Alfsigr, her Alfsigr, stuck at the bottom of a mine, Laura’s stomach had rolled over.

  
    Eventually they traveled far enough away for Laura to feel comfortable to ride, and she had turned wordlessly to watch Carmilla swing herself up effortlessly into the saddle.

  
    “I take it you ride better than you saddle a horse?” She had quipped as she had reached up to take the hand Carmilla offered, her fingers grabbing tight as she had pushed off the ground, using Carmilla for leverage as she pulled herself up and into the saddle, her body finally coming to a rest behind her.

  
    Alfsigr had shifted under their combined weight, and Laura would have felt bad for forcing the mare to carry the both of them had they not been so small.

  
    They had fit comfortably into the saddle, provided Laura pressed herself close and allowed her arms to wrap about the girl in front of her, something she had been rather hesitant to do.

  
    Carmilla had chuckled wryly.

  
    “Yes, I do as a matter of fact. And I take it that you must be quite good at falling off horses, seeing as the poor job you’re doing at holding on,” She had stated, her head turning slightly to the side, attempting to make eye contact.

  
    Laura had refused to allow her, and had instead reached forward in a blunder to wrap her arms about the girl’s waist, securing herself.

  
    “There you go, sweetness,” Carmilla had said, and Laura had felt the movement of her muscles as she had lightly nudged her heels into Alfsigr’s side, prompting the horse forward.

  
    When she had received no response from Laura, she spoke again, and from her place behind her, Laura could just see the line of her lips as they parted, her words leaving her lips visibly as they froze into the air and ascended into the sky, “Don’t worry. I don’t bite cute little things like you,” She had told her, and surprisingly Laura had found it reassuring.

  
    “Just focus on steering, would you? I can already feel the cold,” Laura had murmured, and had pulled up her hood to cover her chilled ears, Carmilla’s soft laughter shaking through into her own body.

  
    It had brought about a bizarre feeling of warmth, as if she had been curled up by a fire.

  
    “Right, I’ll steer,” Carmilla had said, sitting up a bit straighter as she glanced about, “And what exactly am I steering towards?” She had questioned, almost like an afterthought, as if it was an unimportant fact.

  
    “You don’t know the way?’ Laura had sputtered from behind her, incredulous.

  
    “Absolutely no idea,” Carmilla had confirmed.

  
    “Then why in the nine hells would you decide to sit in front?” Laura had asked her.

  
    Carmilla had grinned- Laura couldn’t see it, but she just knew.

  
    “I’ll have you know I am quite excellent at steering,” Had been her response, and it had more or less infuriated Laura from her place, where she had sat craning her neck to see over Carmilla’s shoulder.

  
    “You can’t be excellent at steering if you don’t know where to- no, to the left!” Laura had ordered, her hand reaching around and pulling the corresponding hand that had held the left rein, and applying the appropriate pressure with her right foot to push Alfsigr in the correct direction.

  
    The black mare had obliged good naturedly, and had easily set off towards Riverwood at a calm walk.

  
    “See?” Carmilla had asked, her tone light, “No problems here,”

  
    Laura had grumbled to herself and set to looking at the sky. Now that she had set Alfsigr on the given path, the mare would find her way to Riverwood without trouble. From there, Bleak Falls Barrow would be a short ride. They would camp down by the foot of the structure for the night, and venture up when the sun returned.

  
    Perhaps then they could accomplish something of meaning.

  
    In front of her, quite content, Carmilla had hummed softly, the tune unrecognizable.

  
    “Do you want to let everything in the forest know we’re coming?” Laura had questioned her, slightly irritated.

  
    The humming had cut off then, replaced by a deep sigh.

  
    “You know, for one so little, you certainly have an awful lot to say,” Carmilla had observed, and Laura had rolled her eyes.

  
    “Like you are any bigger,” Laura had mumbled, growing tired of holding her head up and allowing it to rest on Carmilla’s hood, which she had for some reason refused to draw up around her head.

 

    They had traveled in silence for a bit then, with only the wind to remind them of their senses.

  
    “Are you alright, darling?” Carmilla had asked again after another moment, “You’re very stiff. I think it’s making the horse upset,”

  
    “Alfsigr,” Laura had said immediately, at first ignoring half of Carmilla’s question, “Her name is Alfsigr,”

  
    “Alright, Alfsigr then,” Carmilla had replied, almost defensively, and had then given way to silence as she waited for Laura to give her the answer she desired.

  
    “I’m fine,” Laura had said after a moment, “Just cold, and it’s dark,”

  
    Again, Carmilla had laughed, her head shaking back and forth, causing the tendrils of her hair to drift after the breeze, a few strands even daring to tickle the skin of Laura’s face from where she had hid it against the other girl’s hood.

  
    “You think this is dark?” She had asked, her voice soft.

  
    Against the softness of her cloak, where Carmilla could not see her, she had moved her head up and down against the girl’s back in confirmation.

  
    “Even with all these stars, shining down on you with all of their light? Even with the moon, big and full and constant?” There had been a sadness in her voice as she spoke, an emptiness that had Laura wanting to hold her tighter.

  
    She hadn’t been brave enough for that, though.

  
    “Yes,” Her voice had been a whisper, one that, had it desired, the wind could have stolen.

  
    Carmilla had shaken her head, slowly, carefully.

  
    “You don’t know what darkness is,” She had said.

  
    Laura hadn’t responded, simply pressed closer and closed her eyes and breathed in the soft scent of the girl in front of her.

  
    It had been a surprisingly warm smell, one that belonged to a hearth in the way the scent of fire and ash and burnt wood clung to her.

  
    It had not been an uncomfortable scent, but one that reminded Laura strongly of home.

  
    Or, at the very least, what a home should be like.

  
    “Are you tired, little lamb?” Carmilla had asked, curious, as she had allowed more and more of herself to rest against Carmilla, until eventually her chin had rubbed quite daringly towards her shoulder, still hesitant but warming to the idea of resting on the spot.

  
    She had murmured something in response, too incoherent to be made into words.

  
    “You can rest your eyes, if you want. I think the horse- Alfsigr,” Carmilla had rushed to correct herself, “Can find the way from here on out. I’ll rouse you when we pass this ‘Riverwood’ you speak of,” She had told her, the hint of a smile in her voice.

  
    “I might fall off,” Laura had murmured in response, fighting against her weary eyelids.

  
    “I won’t let you,” Carmilla had said.

  
    Laura had slept easy then, and Carmilla had stayed true to her word. When Laura had finally awoken, it had been to the coming of dusk, and the feeling of something warm curled around her.

  
    When she had turned, she had found Carmilla cuddled up beside her, an arm thrown carefully over her waist, her body still breathing in the patterns of sleep.

  
    Upon greater thinking, Laura had found she didn’t mind the interaction, and when she had made certain Carmilla had been deep asleep, had nestled closer to her warmth and allowed the songs of morning to sing her back to her dreams.

  
    They had laid together for a long time then, sheltered by the forest floor, wholly and utterly at peace.  



	4. Act I, Scene iii: Bleak Falls Barrow Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim AU, in which Carmilla is the Dragonborn and Laura is the daughter of the stable master in Whiterun. She dreams of adventure, Carmilla never wanted any of this madness, and somewhere along the way they fall in love and save their world from destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out at thespeardanes.tumblr.com for a good time. And also if you have any thoughts/questions on the fic. But mostly just for a good time.

ACT I

Scene iii: Bleak Falls Barrow Part II

  “Wow,”

  
    “You were expecting something else?”

  
    “When Farengar had said it… he made it into something not so…bleak?” Carmilla had said, her tone questioning yet clearly amused.

  
    Laura had rolled her eyes.

  
    “The name is literally Bleak Falls Barrow, Carmilla. It’s not a happy place. It use to give LaFontaine nightmares when they were little,” Laura had said, the information slipping out without thought.

  
    Carmilla had glanced up at her, her expression strange.

  
    ‘What’s a LaFontaine?” She had questioned, her lips pursed together in what was the beginnings of a smile.

  
    “What’s a Farengar?” Laura had replied, just as coy.

  
    Carmilla had smirked at her, her eyebrows raising, a gesture for Laura to speak first.

  
    “LaFontaine is a person. My very best friend actually, along with Perry,” She had said.

  
    “Your friends have funny names,” Carmilla had said, her nose crinkling as she had smirked,

  
    “Whatever you say, Carmilla Silas,” Laura had responded, playful.

  
    She had not expected the girl to stiffen the way she did, for her eyes to go wide, for her lips to curl downwards in distaste.

  
    “Don’t call me that,” There had been an edge to her tone that Laura had not been fond of. She had regarded her uncertainly, distrusting as the girl had stared her down.

  
    After a moment, the mood seemed to pass, and she had closed the distance between them, a smile replacing the previous frown.

  
    “I like your name for me much better,” She had murmured then, carelessly invading her personal space, and Laura had stumbled in her haste to get away.

  
    “Right,” She had said, “No problem,”

  
    Carmilla had given her a small smile.

  
    “Farengar is the Court Wizard, the one who asked me to find the Dragonstone,” She had said, finally answering Laura’s question.

  
    Laura had nodded her head, the majority of her curiosity over the man having already left her.

  
    Carmilla had turned to look at the stone structure again, her eyes scanning over the immenseness of it.

  
    “This will be dangerous, you know,” She had said then, her eyes turning slyly to gaze at Laura, “You could get hurt,”

  
    “I’m not afraid,” She had said, putting on a stronger act than she felt.

  
    Carmilla had paused, her eyes sliding over her in a way that made Laura’s cheeks flush. It had been a calculating gaze, a thoughtful one.

  
    “We could be down their a long time. I don’t want you to go if you don’t think you can,” She had said.

  
    Laura had paused then, mirroring Carmilla’s previous action as she looked the girl over in turn, a small smile playing on her lips.

  
    The girl’s hair had been braided in a circlet about her head, one that met at the back and flowed down to her shoulders gracefully, and when Laura had found her setting her hair that morning, she had tried to put flowers in it.

  
    The girl had fought her fiercely over the matter, but had at last relented when Laura had presented her with a large yellow blossom.

  
    “Alright,” She had sighed, snatching it up and lacing it into the back of her hair, “But only because you made me, cutie,” She had said.

  
    Laura had caught her stroking the petals later on, and the resulting smile that had formed had caused Carmilla to roll her eyes.

  
    As Laura observed her, she watched with a small smile as the girl repeated the action, her fingers absentmindedly finding the petals that adorned her hair.

  
    “We’ll be together, right?” Laura had asked her then, “The whole time?”

  
    Carmilla had nodded her head, her eyes meeting Laura’s confidently.

  
    “Then I’m not afraid,” Laura had said.

  
    The raven haired girl had smiled then, and they had entered into the barrow together.

  
                * * *

  
    It had been immediately obvious that they had not been alone.

  
    The barrow had been more or less exactly what Laura had expected: Large, old, and crumbling, exactly as a ruin should be.

  
    Scattered throughout the first cavern everywhere were deteriorating structures and broken stone. In some places, sunlight broke into the darkness of the cavern, splotching it with patches of brightness. Snow had been scattered throughout the barrow as well, covering everything from the stone to the floor in a soft, packed layer.

  
    Directly in front of them, a wide brace had stood erected, the sole force that held up the inner sanctum. To the left a giant eagle head, sculpted from iron, had looked out with a mangled, angry face, a warning against all and any explorations of what lay below.

  
    At the far back, the cave walls had been lit aglow, and stood out in their flickering, orange color. From the same spot, voices unfamiliar to Laura had spoken without regard to volume or tone.

  
    Beside her Carmilla had dropped into a crouch, her body held low and compact as she strode forwards silently, her hand moving to grip the edge of her sword.

  
    Laura had mirrored her without much thought, though as she had made her way to her side, had questioned her softly, her voice almost inaudible.

  
    “What are we doing?” She had breathed, her eyes fixed upon Carmilla.

  
    The raven haired girl had turned to look at her, lips parting in an amused smile as she had rolled her eyes. She had pressed herself close to Laura then, had tugged her to her insistently, so she could touch her lips to her ear.

  
    “We are being very, very quiet,” She had murmured, her lips tickling Laura’s ear, and Laura had pulled her head back quickly, blinking up at her.

  
    “But why?” Laura had asked, genuinely confused.

  
    Carmilla had turned and given her an exasperated look.

  
    “So those lack wits don’t know we are here,” She had responded, as if the fact were obvious.

  
    Laura had cast a glance back over to where the voices came from, a frown finding it’s way onto her face.

  
    “They’re probably nice,” She had said, her voice raising ever so slightly in volume as she protested Carmilla’s judgement of them.

  
    Carmilla’s eyes had narrowed, her lips curving up into a smile that was not very kind.

  
    “You’re right,” She had husked, blinking her eyes at Laura, “This is what all nice people do. They go and find the creepiest, most secluded ruins they can and camp out. I’m sure those dead bodies over there are just for decoration,” She had said.

  
    Laura’s head had turned immediately. Where upon her first observations she had thought the broken lumps had been snow, she now identified them as fur covered men, their eyes open in a blank, eternal stare.

  
    Her mouth had opened, about to let loose a cry of shock, when Carmilla’s hand had pressed firmly against her mouth, cutting off the sound as she gave her a warning glance.

  
    “Careful there, sweetness,” She had whispered, her eyes watching her intently.

  
    Laura had shifted about, her eyes downcast for a moment before moving fiercely back up to Carmilla’s.

  
    “They don’t have any reason to hurt us,” She had stated, her eyebrows furrowed.

  
    For a moment, a different light had come into Carmilla’s eyes, and she had looked hesitant, uncertain.

  
    “Sometimes, just being somewhere is reason enough,” She had said, and if Laura had trusted herself more, she might have identified the look in the girl’s eyes as sadness.

  
    Sadness, and maybe a little bit of fear.

  
    Carmilla had moved then, her eyes fixed with an intention Laura had been unable to interpret, and Laura had lunged forwards without thinking, snatching her arm.

  
    The result had been much more noise than she expected, and as Carmilla had met her gaze with a glare, the voices at the far end of the cavern had paused.

  
    The both of them had frozen, Laura’s eyes going wide, as the sound of heavy footsteps had started towards them.

  
    “Is someone there?” The voice had been deep and strong, powerful in it’s resonance, and Laura had felt her heart leap as fear shot through her.

  
    Slowly, her eyes warning Laura to remain still, Carmilla had risen and stepped away from the crevice where they hid and out into the light, drawing her sword in a fluid movement as she had confronted the first man.

  
    He had been easily three times her size, his body well muscled with strength and covered in studded armor. He moved slowly because of it, the metal of his boots scraping against the stone floor, causing a loud clang that announced his arrival.

  
    He had had long grey hair, intricately braided about the base of his skull. His eyes, a storm grey, had looked upon Carmilla like a saber-cat would a deer, their expression feral and predatory. In his left hand he had held a large wooden shield, and in his right a pointed mace, painted red with the blood of a previous encounter.

  
    The fear Laura had felt before bubbled up with greater strength. Her body trembled with indecision, her breaths came in quicker gasps.

  
    She did not move from her place, however. Not when Carmilla had told her to stay.

  
    “You picked a bad time to get lost, girl,” The man had snarled, his lips pulling back to reveal crooked teeth, and he had spat on the floor, his throat producing a vile hacking sound as he did so.

  
    Laura’s eyes remained on Carmilla.

  
    She no longer stood crouched, but at her full height, her shoulders down and back slightly bent, her feet spread apart in a stance Laura had often seen Danny display, when she still had not given up on teaching Laura to fight with a sword.

  
    The mechanics of it all had long been lost on Laura, traded in for knowledge on trajectory and calculations, things every marksman needed to know. Yet the significance of the movement had not been lost on Laura.

  
    It had been a warring stance, a daring stance, one that called those around her to arms.

  
    Carmilla would be fighting him.

  
    She had been able to make out the girl’s eyes in the slivers of light from the cave cracks, and they were hard, dangerously so.

  
    Her sword, drawn at her side, had sat poised in her hand, relaxed but ready, her shield poised to strike as well.

  
    “ You picked a bad time to find me,” Carmilla had responded, her face pulled together in a sneer.

  
    The man had laughed-or coughed, depending on how one chose to interpret the noise, and had raised the length of his mace.

  
    There had been no words after that, only action.

  
    The man had lunged first, throwing his entire body at her, causing a great amount of noise as the stone had groaned in protest under his heavy boots.

  
    His hit had been one of power, but it had never struck Carmilla.

  
    The instant he had moved, she had as well. It had only been a tiny fraction in comparison to the bandit’s. Her feet had only stepped lightly to the side, and then her sword had lashed out and caught him on the back, using his momentum to throw him past her.

  
    He had stumbled wildly, completely overstepping, before he had managed to recover and had swung around, seething.

  
    He had charged her again, in a flurry of noise, raising his mace higher and faster in order to bring it down harder.

  
    Again, Carmilla had sidestepped him. His mace had smacked into the rock pillar behind her, noisy but harmless.

  
    That time, however, Carmilla had not given him the chance to try again.

  
    As he had passed her and she had turned, the steel of her sword had not merely glanced over him, but had dug into his side, deep, and Laura had watched in a mix of fascination and horror as Carmilla had pushed it in and twisted it once, hard, before pulling back out.

  
    The man had screamed out the most awful sound Laura had ever heard. It had been unnaturally high-pitched and panicked, and had echoed throughout the barrow before Carmilla could stop it.

  
    It had only echoed once, however, as Carmilla had pulled her sword from his side and stuck it in his throat, ending his cries permanently.

  
    Despite her efforts, the man’s death had not gone unnoticed. More voices had carried over from the fireside, and more boots had scraped against the stone as footsteps had headed their way.

  
    “Brinlrod,” A female voice had called out, concerned, “Are you alright?”

  
    “Nine hells, Sorlinna, the bloody oaf’s probably run himself through with his own sword again,” Another voice, this time male, had responded.

  
    Their words had cut off as they had rounded the pillar to see Carmilla, poised over the body of the bandit-Brinlrod, as they had called him- her sword covered in his blood.

  
    They had frozen in complete shock, the woman’s mouth dropping open.

  
    They had looked much the same as Brinlrod had, bearing the same grey hair and dark eyes. The man had stood armed with a lance, the weapon long and pointed.

  
    The woman had stood with a bow, a quiver of arrows on her back.

  
    At the sight of the long range weapon, Laura’s breath had caught. Perhaps Carmilla could have dealt with two swordsman at once, but if Laura had learned one thing from Danny about multiple attackers, it had been that you never wanted one of them to be an archer.

  
    Archers were dangerous. They could be twenty feet from you, well out of reach, and you could still die by there hand.

  
    The woman Sorlinna had taken a step back, shock well on her face. The expression had quickly turned to one of hate.

  
    “Kill the dog, Filnan,” She had ordered, her voice a snarl, “Rip her heart out,”

  
    If the words had frightened Carmilla, she had not shown her fear. Instead she had scoffed, standoffish, as Filnan had welded the lance and moved to face her.  
    He had worn less armor, and his weapon had been lighter, so he had moved much faster. The battle became less of an unfair game of tag and more of a dance as the two of them had traded blows, and Carmilla had moved elegantly.

  
    For each one of Filnan’s hits, she seemed to have a perfect response. If he lunged high, she blocked and hit low, be it a swipe at the leg, a stab at the waist. If he thrust harder, she cleared out, drawing him closer to her and farther from Sorlinna. Every move she had made had been calculated, every hit she administered had been planned.

  
    The movements had almost become peaceful, much like an art form, when Carmilla had given her first hard hit, a long slash against the torso, and Filnan had cried out in pain.

  
    It was then that the familiar swish of a released arrow had turned Laura’s attention back to Sorlinna. In the distraction of the dueling weapons, she had notched an arrow and fired it.

  
    Carmilla, focused on parrying a critical strike, had missed the action. She had turned just in time, whether out of skill or luck.

  
    Instead of impaling itself in her back, the arrow had caught her arm, stripping the underside of flesh and causing her to cry out in shock.

  
    In her distraction, Filnan’s lance had glanced off of her thigh, ripping through the pants in a long arch, drawing blood.

  
    Carmilla had stumbled back, now favoring her leg and cradling her sword arm, and had raised her shield, a last defense.

  
    Sorlinna had notched and raised another arrow. Filnan had raised his lance, prepared to bring it down on Carmilla, to end her.

  
    Laura had leapt to her feet without instruction as the girl’s eyes had found hers. They had been wide in panic, the pupils contracted to pinpoints, and Laura had known what she had to do.

  
    From her hiding place she had crept forwards, her hands notching an arrow involuntarily. She had raised the bow silently, pulled back the string with a hunter’s stealth, and had pointed it at the archer.

  
    It would be simple.

  
    She had aimed for the head, ready to deliver a kill shot, and her muscles had tensed, ready for the release.

  
    And yet, she had found herself frozen.

  
    She had never killed a person before. While countless animals had fallen to her arrows, they hadn’t had names and loved ones, hadn’t had stories to tell, lives to live.  
    Laura had been scared.

  
    And then her eyes, locked on Carmilla’s, had watched as the brown of her eyes had turned to the brightest blue.

  
   _Dreh ni faas_. (Do not fear.)

  
    She had let the arrow fly, her fingers releasing the string immediately, and she had watched as it had found it’s way into Sorlinna’s head. The archer had fallen immediately to the ground, her bow landing with a clatter, and Laura had watched transfixed as the wound had bled red.

  
    Filnan, distracted by the commotion, had turned to glance upon where the archer had stood.

  
    Immediately Carmilla had lunged forward.

  
    She had driven her sword through his chest in one clean move, and unlike Brinlrod, Filnan had simply given a shocked gurgle before slumping over.

  
    In the absence of the battle, the silence that had followed had been deafening.

  
    Carmilla had not approached her, but had instead set to looting through the bandit’s remains, her hands occasionally pulling away something of value, which she would then store within her pockets.

  
    Only when she had seemingly gathered everything she could, and had helped herself to what remained of the bandit’s roast that had sat cooking over the fire, had she come to Laura, Sorlinna’s quiver of arrows outstretched in her hands.

  
    “Here,” She had stated, shoving the arrows towards her unceremoniously as she had bitten off another chunk of meat from the leg of the roast. It had made a snapping sound, and she had chewed noisily as she had watched Laura, waiting for her to respond.

  
    When she had not moved to take the arrows, Carmilla’s brow had furrowed.

  
    “What?’ Carmilla had questioned, suddenly uncertain, “Would you like some?” She had asked, her hand stretching out to offer the meat.

  
    Only when Laura had continued to remain unresponsive had she turned and followed the girl’s gaze, to where it came to rest on the body of the archer.

  
    Realization had seemed to enter Carmilla then, and she had spun back around to face Laura, her eyes slightly wider. She had tossed the leg of meat away from her, allowing it to disappear into a spot of snow.

  
    “Oh,” She had said, the hand that had held the arrows lowering to her side, “She was your first,” She had stated.

  
    Laura had lowered her eyes and tried to stop the tremor of her hands.

  
    She had put the woman on the ground. In the simple act, she had become a murderer.

  
    There had been no going back, not anymore.

  
    “Let’s just keep moving,” Laura had said, biting back tears. The last thing she had wanted had been for Carmilla to watch her cry.

  
    The girl had caught her by the sleeve, though, and had spun her around, her arms drawing her close until Carmilla had been all she had known. The girl had tightened her hold on her then, and had pressed her chin into the space where her neck and shoulder met.

  
    “Thank you for doing that, sweetness,” Carmilla had said, her words warm and soft, “That was very brave of you,” She had said.

  
    Laura had allowed herself to relish in her closeness. For just a moment, she had shut her eyes, taken a deep breath, and had allowed the softness of the fur that covered Carmilla’s body to rub against her cheek, a soothing motion.

  
    “I can’t say that you’ll ever forget, but we’ll sleep closer to the fire tonight. The light helps,” Carmilla had said.

  
    Almost immediately, Laura had shied away from the intimacy of the words, her body pulling away from the girl as quickly as she had come.

  
     She had wiped away unshed tears then, and as her stomach had growled, had reached down to retrieve the meat that Carmilla had dropped. It had been covered in snow, but she had brushed off the wetness and bitten off a reasonably sized chunk.

  
    The meat had been sickeningly sweet, overpoweringly so, and had sat wrong with Laura as she had chewed it. Still, it had slid down easy, and Laura had taken off a larger chunk before allowing it to fall back to the floor.

  
    Carmilla had let her go, but watched her carefully from behind golden eyes, her face expressionless. She had only moved to disrupt Laura once, to add the arrows she had collected into her quiver, but had let her be for the moment, wandering around the cavern until Laura had approached the tunnel that led deeper.

  
    “Ready?” Carmilla had asked then, appearing beside Laura without needing to be called.

  
    Laura had simply nodded her head, her eyes fixed on the passage ahead.

  
    Carmilla had stepped forwards then, and had offered Laura her hand as she had entered into the tunnel.

  
    Instead of taking it, Laura had readied her bow, and had gestured for Carmilla to lead.

  
    For a moment, there might have been sadness in Carmilla’s eyes. It had disappeared as soon as Laura had seen it come, and she had turned and taken steps deeper into the tunnel, drawing her sword to hold it at her side.

  
    Laura had followed behind her immediately, quietly.

  
    As they disappeared into the tunnel, the cavern they had left fell to silence, with the exception of the fire they had left burning. In their absence, the flames had crackled on, just as bright and lively as they had been before.

  
                    * * *

  
    “You’re going the wrong way. This is the third time we’ve passed the overhang,” Laura had complained.

  
    They had been wandering around for hours.

  
    At first their descent into the earth had gone well. They had made idle conversation as they went, with Carmilla occasionally stopping to break open a chest or loot through a skeleton.

  
    The first sight of the deteriorating bones had made Laura queasy, but she had since grown accustomed. Carmilla’s general aloofness towards them had helped greatly, but they had still caused the occasional flutter of unease every time the stark white contrast came into view.

  
    They had stopped two hours in to rest at a place where a large amount of sunlight had broken in from a high up tunnel. It had not been a long rest, but a needed one, in which they had both eaten an apple and continued on.

  
    That had been the last good moment. From there, the way ahead had become frighteningly unclear.

  
    “I know where I’m going,” Carmilla had snapped, her eyes scanning about the tunnel they had currently occupied.

  
    “You don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Laura had responded in turn, indignant.

  
    “He said I would know when I found it,” Had been Carmilla’s reply, annoyance clear in her tone.

  
    “Well that’s great, Carmilla. I’m glad you thought that those instructions would be sufficient,” Laura had responded, echoing Carmilla’s annoyance.

  
    In the midst of her reply, she had failed to notice that Carmilla had gone still as stone. Only at the last second had she managed to keep from crashing into her.

  
    “What is it now?’ She had sighed, fatigued, “It’s not time for another break,”

  
    “Hush,” Carmilla had snapped, her voice sharp.

  
    Despite her tone, Laura had listened.

  
    A great moaning had broken out ahead of them, and the sound of heavy footsteps on dull earth had alerted Laura of another’s presence.

  
    “What is it?” She had asked Carmilla, her voice a whisper now.

  
    The girl had turned to her, her eyes alight, her lips pulled up in a half grin.

  
    “Draugr,” She had responded, her voice giving way to a gentle chuckle, and Laura had stared up at her, incredulous.

  
    When she had been younger, Jervar had told her the legends of the Draugr, a type of being who, despite being dead for a long time, had never relinquished their souls. As a result, if roused, they walked about much like people, though monstrously so.

  
     All of Jervar’s stories had, of course, mostly ended with them coming down from the mountains to eat her if she didn’t do her chores.

  
    Needless to say, while Laura had found them entertaining, they had never been real.

  
    “They’re just legends,” She had said, unbelieving, “They aren’t real. The dead stay dead,” She had said, and her heart had given a pang at the thought.

  
    After Jervar had finished his stories and had tucked her into bed for the night, she had waited a countless number of nights at her window, her eyes fixed on the mountains, hoping to all nine heavens that her parents might come down to her.

  
    Carmilla had given her a childish grin.

  
    “Tell that to them,” She had murmured, almost playfully, and then she had disappeared around the corner, gone.

  
    Laura had gaped after her for a moment, but had just as quickly followed after her, having no desire to be left alone.

  
    They came upon the Draugr almost immediately.

  
    It had been big, far bigger than Laura and Carmilla, and it had been very, very dead.

  
    It had been a skeleton, but it had seemed to retain some of it’s muscle. It was armored about the chest, and strapped to it’s back was a large axe, ancient in it’s appearance.

  
    It’s eyes had been blue, but not in the same manner as Laura had become accustomed to. It had been a dead blue, a dark blue, and it had rubbed Laura the wrong way.

  
    Where the bandits had made Laura hesitant, she had not faltered as she had raised her bow and shot the creature dead.

  
    She had hit it directly in the throat, and just as quickly as it had appeared to them, it had fallen dead.

  
    “Nice shot,” Carmilla had praised her as she had danced forwards towards the body.

  
    She had been rifling through the Draugr’s armor when the second one had appeared, this one even more armored than the other.

  
    It had caught Laura off guard at it’s sudden appearance, and her eyes had zeroed in on the unsuspecting Carmilla as it had approached, bizarrely silent.

  
    Needless to say, the same beast as before had roared to life within her chest. She had pulled back the bowstring to her mouth before the Draugr had taken another step, and had released it with just as much speed.

  
    The arrow had flown it’s intended path, landing directly in the crevice of the creature’s shoulder.

  
    The Draugr had staggered violently, but the arrow had not been enough to bring it down.

  
    The action had been enough to startle Carmilla to her feet, and she had slashed her sword through the Draugr immediately upon seeing it.

  
    She had turned to Laura then, gesturing for her to come close, and Laura had obliged.

  
    “Let’s go lower,” Carmilla had said then, once Laura had approached her, and Laura, unwilling to stick around in the presence of the undead, had obliged her.

  
    “Yes, lower,” She had said, and had followed the dark haired girl deeper into the caverns.

  
    Lower, as Laura had quickly found out, had not been at all better, and she had rapidly begun to feel uneasy, in the sense that her stomach rolled at every turn and her muscles remained tensed, ready to react. At one point, Carmilla had brushed the side of a cave wall and had knocked some stones lose, and Laura had jolted to the point where she had almost collapsed, with only Carmilla’s supporting hand on her elbow keeping her upright.

  
    “What’s wrong?” She had asked her at the motion, the brown of her eyes a bright gold in the fading light of the cavern.

  
    “It’s nothing,” Laura had said almost immediately, her eyes firmly downcast.

  
    It hadn’t been nothing. The barrow had started to feel endless to Laura, and she had never before been so desperate for the large open spaces and constant sunlight that Skyrim’s surface offered. It had been unnatural, she had reasoned, to travel into the earth, where there had been no life, only death. She longed to abandon the place, to turn back and flee the way they had come.

  
    She had offered none of the following to Carmilla, and instead had chosen to shoulder past the raven haired girl, desiring to escape from the intensity of her gaze.  
    “Remember what I said before?” She had questioned Carmilla, to which the girl had stared back at her blankly, “It’s the dark, that’s all,” She had offered as her excuse once more, and had felt it sufficient.

  
    She hadn’t seen the wry curl of Carmilla’s lips at her words, nor the curiosity that entered her eyes as she had followed after her.

  
    “Remember what I said before?” Carmilla had quipped in response, her voice mocking that of Laura’s, though not in a particularly cruel manner.

  
    Laura had simply raised an eyebrow at her as the girl had sauntered closer on languid limbs, the red of her lips glistening in the dappled light of the cavern.

  
    Carmilla had moved without hesitation, finding her way without problem directly into Laura’s personal space, and again the dark haired girl’s features had in no way served to repel Laura from the interaction.

  
    She had not shied away when Carmilla’s hands had settled with gentle caution onto the tops of her shoulders.

  
    “I’ll protect you from the shadows,” The girl had breathed, her lips pulled in such a grin that Laura had been unable to help the small smile that had blossomed in return.  
    Laura had almost believed her too, until a shout unlike any she had ever heard had rung out, high pitched and panicked, and Carmilla had all but disappeared from her as she had taken off in a sprint in the direction which the cry had sounded.

  
    “Help me!” The voice had bounced endlessly off the cavern walls as Laura had pursued Carmilla in her path, the heavy echo of their boots adding to the terrifying sounds that guided them on, “Cut me down,” The voice had continued to wail, “Please, help me,”

  
    Laura’s speed had been so great she had been unable to stop as Carmilla had turned a corner and frozen to the spot, her eyes wide in terror, and Laura had crashed into her, sending them tumbling into the side of the wall.

  
    From their place on the ground, tangled within each other’s limbs, they had glanced up to see the largest spider imaginable drop from the ceiling of the cave.  
    Immediately, Laura had screamed as well, her voice joining that of the other in acute terror until Carmilla had shoved her hard, and she had rolled off the girl and back into the tunnel, stiff with fear as she had watched Carmilla leap into the chamber.

  
    At Carmilla’s appearance, the voice had broke with something resembling hope, and the screams changed into shouts of encouragement.

  
    “Kill it,” The voice had screamed, “Kill it and cut me down,”

  
    Laura had stumbled to her feet after a moment of confusion, still unsteady with fear as she had pulled up her bow and notched an arrow, hesitantly turning the corner.

  
    Of all the creatures in Skyrim, Laura hated the frostbite spider the most. With venom like ice and a disgusting body, the creatures had haunted her ever since she had found one in the cellar of her home, it’s beady eyes dark and angry.

  
    It had poisoned her the moment she had screamed, it’s venom burning her skin, and she had been confident it was going to kill her until Jervar had appeared and had stabbed it repeatedly until it had died, screaming it’s high pitched, unnatural cry.

  
    The creature that Carmilla had faced had been no simple frostbite spider. It had been easily seven times the size of it, it’s fangs and pulsating body elongated to sickening points, and as she had risen to attempt to shoot it, she had almost shrunk away once more.

  
    Only Carmilla, bearing a sword in her right hand and flickering flames in her left, had given her enough courage to stay where she had been at the mouth of the tunnel and shoot an arrow.

  
    She had been unsteady in her shot, and it had instead glanced off a stone, nearly hitting Carmilla, to which the girl had cried out indignantly, her gaze turning to meet Laura’s sharply.

  
    “Watch yourself,” She had yelled out, dancing narrowly out of the way of one of the spider’s flailing limbs, and Laura had attempted to steel herself as Carmilla had rolled to avoid a poison shot that the spider had hurled at her, and when the girl had risen, the fire had burst from her palm explosively, catching onto one of the beast’s legs and making it scream.

  
    Laura had drawn herself up then, and had released another arrow. This time, the point met it’s mark, digging deep into one of the creatures legs, causing it to stumble and allowing Carmilla to burn it again, the fire licking it’s way up another of the creatures legs, to which it had thrashed.

  
    Laura had seen it then, as she usually did with her hunter’s eyes, the kill shot. The spider had lunged blindly towards Carmilla’s lashing out angrily, and in doing so had exposed one of it’s eyes.

  
    Laura had drawn back immediately, and the arrow had flown true, landing immediately in the creature’s eye. The beast had given a great scream before collapsing, and had then been engulfed in a flow of bright orange flames as Carmilla had burned it to nothing.

  
    The relief had been immediate, and Laura had stumbled into the open cavern without pause, heading directly for Carmilla as she had stumbled her way around the body, the adrenaline in her system causing her to crash rapidly as her breathing had slowed.

  
    “Are you hurt?” She had breathed out as she had moved to the girl’s side, concerned and still a great deal frightened as she had come closer to the spider, which appeared larger from a closer distance.

  
    Carmilla had simply shaken her head, and had set to pulling Laura’s arrows from the spider in routine, quick movements, until Laura had caught her arm and had made her stop.

  
    The girl had turned sharply to look at her, her cheeks flushed and eyes wet, her lip quivering slightly, and it had shocked Laura to silence.

  
    They had stared at one another for a moment, dumbstruck, until again the voice had called out, jolting them both with it’s suddenness.

  
    “Hey, you two, let me down already,” It had called out, and Laura had taken a moment to observe their surroundings.

  
    They had been in a large, crumbling room, one covered in spider web and egg sacs, and it had made Laura’s stomach roll.

  
    Hanging around the room like artwork had been multiple corpses, all encased in spider web from head to toe, limp and lifeless with the exception of one.

  
    It had hung by the next doorway, thrashing angrily and only half completed, giving way to an angry and flustered man as he fought to escape his bondage.

  
    Immediately Carmilla set off in the man’s direction, sword still drawn, and Laura followed wordlessly until they came to rest underneath the man’s swinging body.

  
    “Let me down,” He pleaded with them in irritation, and Laura had looked to Carmilla expectantly, ready to find the girl already accomplishing the task.

  
    Instead she found the girl’s golden eyes hard and glaring as she had stared at the man, her lips pursed in deliberation.

  
    “Why should we?” Carmilla had called out boldly, and Laura had turned to her in shock, her brows furrowed.

  
    “Carmilla,” She had called out immediately in confusion, but the girl had simply shushed her, and her eyes had never left that of the man’s.

  
    “Let me down now, little girl, and I might just let the both of you live,” The man had snarled, and it had prompted Laura to step closer to Carmilla, uncertain as the other girl had crossed her arms and gazed up without fear, in an almost bored manner.

  
    “You’re not really helping your case here, friend,” Carmilla had drawled, and Laura had baulked at how unaffected she had come off as, “Why should we let you down when you are perfectly out of the way up there?” She had mused, and Laura had watched with growing anxiety as the man had thrashed harder.

  
    “Then get on with it. I can free myself,” He had spat, and Carmilla had raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, before turning to Laura.

  
    “You heard the man, he’s fine. Let’s go, I’m getting tired of all this,” She had said, yet she hadn’t taken a single step before the man had been howling for her forgiveness.

  
    “No, wait, stop. I can help you. I’ll give you the key if you let me down,” He had called out desperately.

  
    “What key?” Laura had whispered in confusion to Carmilla, but again the girl had quieted her with a firm glance.

  
    “That sounds a little better,” Carmilla had said then, leaning on her sword as she had gazed up at him, “I’m going to cut you down now. If you try anything, we’ll kill you, understand?” She had questioned, and the man had nodded frantically.

  
    “Yes, yes, thank you,” He had said nervously.

  
    Carmilla had cut him down unceremoniously and without warning, and the man had landed hard, giving a surprised yelp as he had hit the ground.  
    “Good, now give us the key,” Carmilla had said, and had extended her hand calmly.

  
    Instead of complying, the man had taken off at a sprint down the tunnel, and Laura had almost been left behind as Carmilla had immediately followed him, disappearing into the darkness.

  
    They had chased him for a good while, Carmilla screaming out at him as they had run, until he had met his end quite suddenly.

  
    He had been running for all he had been worth, and had not seen the trap on the cave wall until it had been upon him. A gate, covered in an array of spikes, had swung mercilessly forwards as he had tripped the wire that activated it. He had been impaled upon the spikes, and had collapsed immediately as the gate had swung off to the side, harmless now, the man bleeding out in it’s wake.

  
    “Thanks for the heads up,” Carmilla had told the man’s corpse as she had leaned down to loot through his clothing, and Laura had braced herself against the wall, attempting to catch her breath and come to terms with all that had happened.

  
    Each time she blinked, the man’s bleeding body would appear behind her eyes, poked full of holes and staring blankly ahead with a glassy, deadened gaze.

  
    Eventually Carmilla provided her with distraction, as she triumphantly held up a bizarre artifact, one Laura had never seen before.

  
    It had been a golden claw, large and heavy and scripted with various animals along it’s palm. It had been beautiful, startlingly so, and she had attempted to return Carmilla’s smile to the best of her ability.

  
    “Found it,” The girl had called proudly, seemingly unfazed by the dead man below her, and Laura had nodded her head weakly.

  
    This had not been like anything she had expected.

  
    “Are you sure that’s it?” She had asked Carmilla, keeping her eyes fixed on the claw, and Carmilla had shrugged her shoulders.

  
    “It’s all he had on him. Well, that and his boring journal,” She had said, and had held up the bound book for Laura to observe.

  
    She had reached out to take hold of the journal immediately, but had hesitated, her eyes meeting that of Carmilla’s.  

  
    “Do you think it’s alright if I take it?” She had asked Carmilla, to which the girl had looked at her with amusement, a small smirk making it’s way across her face.

  
    “Hold on, let me ask him,” She had said, pointing to the dead man on the floor. She had nudged at his lifeless arm with the toe of her boot before allowing it to fall with a dull thud, and Laura had looked away immediately, her eyes downcast.

  
    “He says it’s alright,” Carmilla had replied, her tone sardonic, “Here you go, sweetness,” She had said, and Laura had glanced up in time to see the bound journal soaring through the air in her direction. She had reached up and caught it quickly, the book sounding a dull thud as it had landed in her hands.

  
    Carmilla had given her a smile then, a real one.

  
    “Good catch. Let’s go,” She had said, and had taken off down the tunnel without further distraction.

  
    Laura had straightened as well, and had been about to follow after her when her eyes had settled on the endless stare of the dead man.

  
    She had swallowed heavily as she had observed it, empty and distant, completely and utterly void of life.

  
    She had leaned down before she had been able to stop herself, and her hands had swept across the man’s face in a clumsy movement, shutting his eyes forever.

  
    “Did you get lost, little lamb?” Carmilla had called from further down the tunnel, and at her voice Laura had righted herself.

  
    “No, I’m coming,” She had called immediately.

  
    She had stepped over the man then, no longer trembling, and had followed Carmilla, journal in hand, deeper into the darkness of the tunnel.

  
                        * * *

  
    Finally, after what had seemed an eternity, they had seemingly found their way to the last door. It had been through an iron door that had led into a low arched, long hallway. It had been dark, only lit by the torches on the wall that had exonerated the murals that had been carved there. They had been beautiful, and ancient, and Laura had longed to stop and observe them.

  
    Carmilla had grabbed hold of her sleeve instead, and had used it as a tether, forcing Laura to stay with her as they had approached the final door.  
    It had been large and ornate, a brilliant golden freestanding structure that had blocked their path forward. It had been carved with multiple etchings, with four distinct lines distinguishing it as a door.

  
    Three circular slots had stood well pronounced, each with a different animal carved into the face. At the very center, the shape of the golden claw had been imprinted.

  
    It had been a puzzle unlike any Laura had ever seen before, and more complex and intricate in it’s design than she could ever have dreamed of.

  
    She had reached out with a childlike curiosity to stroke the tips of her fingers across the shining surface, but the cold metal that had greeted her skin had prompted her to withdraw.

  
    “Well,” Carmilla had hummed from beside her, watching intently, “That guy was right,” She had stated, giving Laura a brief grin as she had met her eyes questioningly.

  
    “The claw is the key,” She had claimed, and had removed the object from her pocket in demonstration, lining the three points of the door with the three claws.

  
    Laura had stepped back from the door them, to regard it again as a whole, her eyes fixing onto that of the illustrations.

  
    “What about the animals on the door?” She had asked in deliberation, and she had looked to the journal in her hands before Carmilla could comment.

  
    She had pried open the journal without struggle, the binding worn and broken at the spine, and had only had time to read a few of the words before Carmilla’s voice disrupted her train of thought.

“They’re just there for decoration, sweetness,” Her voice had purred, and she had pressed the claw into the keyhole without further pause.

  
    Had Laura not have been scanning through the contents of the journal, her heart would not have leapt into her throat in the way it did.

  
     _The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away_ , the line from the journal had run through her mind as Laura had heard a familiar thrum echo through the hallway.

  
    It had been the same sound of release as the one that occurred when she loosened an arrow from the string of her bow, and she had immediately known what was to come.

  
    She had barely reached Carmilla by the time the arrows had begun to rain down, forceful and unrelenting, and as she had tackled her out of the way, she almost hadn’t felt the searing pain that had lit up from her elbow down to her arm.

  
    Then they had landed hard and out of range, and the pain had been all she could focus on as she had rolled off Carmilla to look at her elbow.

  
    Imbedded deep into the skin of her arm, a thick black arrow had sat proudly, rigid in it’s path and causing a searing sting each time Laura dared to move the afflicted limb. A small trickle of blood streamed from the wound down towards her fingertips, the bright crimson a dire contrast to the paleness of her skin.

  
    At first Laura had only felt a bizarre fascination, an acute curiosity. In all of her life, she had never been shot before. She had always been on the opposite side of the arrow, the sender, never the receiver.

  
    Sometimes, at night, she had dreamt about what the animals she killed felt the moment the arrow struck them. Where she had then been unable to imagine the pain, her subconscious had no trouble in reveling in it now. The sensation had been fiery and blistering, and it had prompted a hoarse whimpering to start up within the expanse of her chest as her eyes had met Carmilla’s.

  
    The dark haired girl, while flustered, had escaped the incident unscathed. She had sat stock still a short distance from Laura, her eyes fixed on her firmly, her lips parted in quiet disbelief and dire uncertainty, and it had been that which had pushed Laura over the edge and had prompted the tears to build up and spill down onto her cheeks as she had held her arm.

  
    “Carm,” Her words had shaken, reflecting her unsteadiness, “Carmilla, it shot me,” She had gasped, the reality of it all still not yet having hit her, and it had been then that Carmilla had lunged for her.

  
    The girl had pushed Laura onto her back before she had really been aware of what had been happening, and had done it so swiftly she had been unable to react in time to stop her.

  
    In the midst of it, she had felt a hand grip tight to the arrow and pull until it had torn lose, and Laura had screamed unencumbered as the wound had wept a jarring scarlet onto the stone floor.

  
    She had panicked immediately, had switched from a state of surprise into a mode of violence, and she had struggled viciously with the girl, kicking out against her with frightened movement as Carmilla had fought back.

  
    “Stop it,” Carmilla had ordered from above her as she had moved to pin her body to the floor, “Laura, it’s okay. It’s okay,” She had said.

  
    At the sound of her name, she had seemingly relaxed, yet she had still stared up at Carmilla with wide and untrusting eyes, until the bizarre golden glow of her hands had attracted her gaze elsewhere.

  
    All along the path from her fingers to her palms, Carmilla’s hands had glowed a soft and rich yellow, it’s appearance warm and inviting. It had entranced Laura to the point that she had not resisted as Carmilla had reached for her injured arm, and the moment her hands had made contact with her skin, she had felt a pleasant trickle of warmth swell across her arm, erasing the pain.

  
    When she had turned to look again, the blood had been gone, as had the wound, healed over by an unknown magic, an unspecified spell.

  
    When she had turned back to face Carmilla, the girl’s eyes had still been wide.

  
    “It’s okay,” She had repeated, though the words had seemed to be more for herself and less for Laura, “You’re alright now,”

  
    Laura had shifted hesitantly then, her hands reaching for the journal she had dropped in her rush to pull Carmilla from harm.

  
    “It says it in the journal,” Laura had said then, her tone still shaking with uncertainty, and she had attempted to swallow it away nervously, “ It says, ‘When you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands,’”

  
    When Carmilla had simply watched her blankly, she had explained herself.

  
    “The animals on the golden claw correspond to the one on the door,” She had stated, “You have to turn them so they line up,”

  
    “Okay,” Carmilla had said slowly, her eyes unwavering in their stare, “We’ll turn them so they line up,” She had repeated back to Laura, and after a moment the blonde girl had nodded her approval.

  
    They had stood then, the distance vast and noticeable between them, and had approached the wall separately, each turning a different tile to it’s corresponding animal on the claw. When they had all appropriately matched, Laura had nodded her head.

  
    “Now put the claw in,” She had instructed, and Carmilla had obeyed her wordlessly.

  
    Immediately, the door had given a great groan, and had slowly but surely started to descend towards the ground.

   
    The girls had backed away once it had begun, suddenly overly cautious, and as they had waited for the door to lower, Laura had turned to face Carmilla, the opposing girl turning to look at her immediately.

  
    “From now on,” Laura had said, her voice regaining some of it’s strength, “We read the books first, and open the doors later,”

  
    Carmilla had nodded her head, her eyes—for the first time—downcast.

  
    Then the door had reached the floor, leaving the last room open to them, and they had continued on to collect what they had come for.

  
    The final room had been large, it’s ceiling relatively nonexistent. From the cavern walls and flooding downwards into expanses unseen, multiple waterfalls had streamed down elegantly.

  
    The room had been dark and overgrown, with dead vegetation protecting crumbling bridges that had once guarded against the rivers that had streamed below them, but had since fallen into disuse.

  
    The path they had followed had been winding and uncertain, as if threatening to lead them astray, but at last they had meandered their way up towards the epitome of it all.

  
    Seated on the top of a large altar, the dragonstone sat unsoiled, the rock a deep obsidian, it’s etchings beautiful beyond measure.

  
    As Laura had observed the carvings closer, they had taken the shape of a map of Skyrim, with large X’s marked in various number and location.

  
    While it had been beautiful, it’s meaning had been lost on Laura. Nonetheless, she had turned immediately in search of Carmilla, who had wandered off to the other side of the altar.

  
    Her eyes had settled on the dark-haired girl almost immediately, as she had stood at the mouth of a large and outstretched cave, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

  
    At first the action had annoyed Laura, as Carmilla had been unwilling to allow her to gaze upon the murals to the outside of the room. She had pushed the feelings aside almost immediately, deeming them insignificant in the light of their new-found success.

  
    “Carmilla,” She had called out, her voice unable to hide her excitement as she had stretched out a hand to run her fingers along the edge of the dragonstone, “I found it. It’s over here,”

  
    Carmilla had not reacted in the slightest, giving away no hint as to whether or not she had heard Laura. Her gaze had not wavered in the slightest, her posture remaining fixed and firm.

  
    Laura had frowned then at the abnormality, and picking up the dragonstone had made her way over to the girl, the large stone surprisingly light in her hands.

  
    “Carmilla?” Her voice had been uncertain and hesitant, “Carmilla what is—”

  
    The words had died in her throat as she had moved to stand beside the girl, and for the first time she had looked into the decorated wall, and her breath had stopped.

  
    She had remembered then, and it had suddenly moved from being simply familiar to being easily recognizable.

  
    It had seemed a lifetime ago since the first time she had seen the wall, and in truth it had been one.

  
    It had been several seasons, multiple moons since she had entered into the forest and it had taken her somewhere else.

  
    She remembered it all clearly then, as if waking up from a deep sleep, a long dream.

  
    It had all been the same, from the shape of the wall to the size of the etchings, and it had forced a stillness upon her that had settled deep into her bones.

  
    Then the words had seemingly come alive, and their message had become legible, the scratches dancing in front of Laura’s eyes until they formed coherent words.

  
_Here lies the guardian_

  
_Keeper of the dragonstone_

  
_And a **force** of unending_

  
_Rage and darkness_

  
    A faint buzzing that had until then only slightly bothered Laura had grown louder, until it sounded like a song, and only then, as she stepped forwards, had Laura turned to regard Carmilla.

  
    The girl had been still, her face expressionless as she had stepped forwards, and the song had turned to one of a chant as a single etching had come alive in a violent burst of blue.

  
    The world around them had darkened to nothing as the words had called Carmilla forwards, beckoning her near, calling and crying for her to come close and never leave again, and the girl had obeyed thoughtlessly as Laura had looked on, desperate to stop her but strangely unable.

  
    She had watched with growing fear as Carmilla had faded to a simple silhouette, black against the blue of the wall, which had seemed to burn with a power that could rival the sun.

  
    Then the song had grown louder, more insistent and intense, and the room had fallen to eternal night as Carmilla reached out the palm of her hand and laid it onto the glowing word.

  
    For a final moment of suspension, there had been nothing but a sudden and bizarre calm. Then the blue glow had erupted, becoming corporal as it had reached outwards like the fingers of a hand, and Laura had watched helplessly as it had swallowed Carmilla’s figure whole, encasing her in it’s fiery warmth, until it had been impossible to see where Carmilla had begun and the light had ended.

  
    As Carmilla and the light became one, the song had intensified to a scream, sounding glorified after glorified shout.

  
     _“Fus,”_ The song had sung brilliantly, repetitively, _“Fus,”_

  
    The event seemingly reached it’s climax when both the light and song receded significantly as the darkness lifted, and the world around Laura once again become known.

  
    Carmilla had emerged from it all then, and while the blue had not encased her, it had wrapped about her artfully, snaring her in intricate tendrils that had twisted and weaved in unworldly patterns up and down the skin of her arms and legs, of her chest and neck, of her face and cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and Laura’s breath had again caught in the back of her throat.

  
    “Carmilla,” The words had bubbled past her lips before she had been akin to stop them.

  
    At the mention on her name, Carmilla’s head had snapped up, and her gaze had met that of Laura’s.

  
    Her eyes had lost their deep, comforting brown. Now, they had stared Laura down in a searing cyan, one that had seemed to pierce past her flesh and deep into the more important parts of her.

  
    “Laura,” Carmilla’s voice had been deep and unfamiliar, it’s tone too deep and hard. It had been curious however, and pleading, begging in a way.

  
    Laura had met her eyes because she had no other choice. She had been drawn to them, almost against her will, like a moth to a flame.

  
    Carmilla had regarded her with a deep look, a sad one, and she had stepped towards her lightly, still imprisoned within the strength of the blue glow.

  
   _“Dreh ni faas,”_ Carmilla had said, her words slow and stable.

  
    As the sentence had ended, the blue had retracted completely from the girl, and the darkness had faded away. When Laura had turned her attention to the wall, it had no longer been lit alive, nor had it formed words. Instead, it had sat as a wall should, still as stone, it’s scratches incomprehensible.

  
    In front of her, before she had been able to move, Carmilla had collapsed as the blue patterns had faded from her skin. She had fallen to the ground immediately, lifeless and still.

  
    Laura had been about to run to her when a loud thud had echoed throughout the cave, ominous and unwelcome, and as Laura had glanced up at the wall again, she had realized the situation.

  
     _Here lies the guardian,_ her mind had reminded her pitifully, _keeper of the dragonstone, and a force of unending rage and darkness._  

  
    Laura had turned slowly and unwillingly to look upon what she had thought to be an altar.

  
    As the Draugr Overlord had emerged from it’s tomb, Laura had known that the word wall had spoken true.

  
    There within the crypts of the barrow truly had dwelled an unrelenting force.

  
    As the monster had clawed it’s way to it’s feet, Laura had never before so strongly desired to run away, to escape from beneath the ground and find her way back to the light.  
    She could do it too, she knew it. It would be simple once she escaped the room to weave her way back to the surface. She could head home then, back to Whiterun, where things were simple and routine and nothing tried to pierce her skin with an axe or arrow or sword.

  
    She would spend her days tending to the horses and hunting in the woods and heading home when the sun finally set to sell her spoils and help Jervar with supper. While mundane, it had been a safe life, a good one.

  
    And she had thrown it all away without a second thought to follow a beautiful stranger down a hole into what had presumably become, in Laura’s eyes, one of the nine hells.  
    Said stranger had lain still by her feet, only the faint rise of her chest giving way to life, and it would have been so easy to leave her behind, to let the Draugr have her while she escaped with her life.

  
    She had taken her first step away from the girl then, confident in her decision to abandon her, when her mind had retaliated sharply, had flooded her senses until she had come to a stand still, until her eyes could look nowhere else but at Carmilla.

  
    “Remember what I said before?” Carmilla’s voice had echoed through her mind, sharp and firm, “I’ll protect you from the shadows,”

  
    Laura had known then, deep within her chest, that she would let the horrid creature before her kill her ten times over before she left Carmilla to die, and it had been that thought which had given her strength, and she had moved to draw an arrow from her quiver in a quick and fluid motion.

  
    The Draugr had turned to her then, it’s eyes the wrong color blue, it’s haggard body stiff and slow, and she had swallowed heavily as it had drawn a large and ancient war axe before turning towards her.

  
    “Stay back,” She had managed at it’s first steps, her voice no more than a whisper, and it had unsurprisingly refused to heed her warning, and she had let her first arrow fly. It had sunk heavily into the Draugr’s shoulder, but had in no way lessened it’s approach.

  
    She had let her arrows fly without pause then, in hopes of bringing the creature to it’s knees before it could attempt to get any closer, yet each attempt made seemed to be to no avail.

  
    When her third arrow had failed to halt it, Laura had started to run, fearful that she would meet her end the instant the Draugr got too close. While she could withstand a lot of things, a war axe to the back was not among them.

  
    She leapt gracelessly down the stairs, landing awkwardly on her ankle and causing it to turn painfully, and she had recovered slowly as she had fought to keep a hold of her bow. She had fumbled with an arrow then, and had turned shakily to fire it off.

  
    It had bounced harmlessly off the Draugr’s armor, and she had fought the shriek of rage she had felt bubble up within her chest as it had continued on it’s path towards her, a low and unsettling moan ripping past its decrepit teeth.

  
    As fast as she could, Laura had limped a few feet back, and switched from targeting the Overlord’s chest to the defined ligaments of his knee cap. She had been around enough failed adventurers and retired soldiers to know one thing—no one ever recovered from an arrow to the knee.

  
    She let the arrow fly and watched with satisfaction as it perfectly impaled the monster’s knee cap, and as a result the beast’s leg gave out, and it came crashing down the stairs in a heap, loosing it’s axe in the process.

  
    She had allowed herself a triumphant shout, and as the Draugr had continuously lain still, had rushed over to it, expecting to find it dead, it’s eyes empty of all things.  
    Instead, they had stared up at her in all of their dark blue hideousness, and before Laura had been allotted time to scream, it had lunged for her ankle with more speed than she had seen it display throughout the entire fight.

  
    It’s bony hand had grabbed her with crushing force, eliciting a high pitched shout of pain, and before Laura had been able to draw another arrow, it had pulled her viciously onto the ground.

  
    Suddenly, Laura had found herself far too close to the monster’s face for her own liking.

  
    Immediately, she struggled violently against the crushing grip of the Draugr, but to little avail, as it pulled her closer and closer, ignoring her attempts to escape it as she tried to reach her dagger and failed, and it wrapped it’s other hand about her wrist with as much force as that of her ankle and pulled _hard_.

  
    In response, Laura released a scream unlike any other as burning pain had spread like fire up the length of her arm to her shoulder, and festered there, angry and clawing, as if someone something within her had grown teeth and had tasked itself with gnawing at her arm.

  
    And then, very simply, Laura had known that it had been over. Her face had come within inches of the Draugr’s, and it had stared down at her in all of it’s wretched horror, it’s eyes blue with eternal hate, and she had known she had been doomed to die.

  
    She had relaxed completely in the Draugr’s grip as a result, the fight leaving her as her arm continued to burn angrily, and her ankle ached, and she had felt bitter cold tears well up from the corners of her eyes and trickle silently down the length of her cheeks.

  
    She had understood then, staring into the Draugr’s eyes, what Carmilla had meant when she had spoken of true darkness. The shaded night sky, lit alive with stars, had been nothing in comparison to the deep depths of the monster’s eyes.

  
    She had observed with quiet fascination then, as the Draugr had unhinged it’s jaw, and the lower half of it’s mouth had swung uselessly down to smack against it’s neck.

  
     She had been given a clear and direct glance to the back of the Overlord’s throat, the only audience available to bear witness as a bright and powerful magic, not unlike the one that had taken Carmilla, had balled up and grown from within the creature’s chest. It had seemed to reach out to her in long tendrils, perhaps to pull her deeper in, or push her farther away.

  
    Laura had closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as her life ended, and thought of all the things she wanted.

  
    She wanted to be outside, above ground, with the sun on her skin and the sky in her eyes. She wanted to be where the trees grew, and the elk played by the riverside and the foxes attempted to overpower creatures that were twice their own size. She wanted to be where the rain fell, and the sky grew grey and the winds stormed, and the water rippled, and the stones withered away to nothing over the short course of a lifetime.

  
    She wanted to be home.

  
    Most of all, she wanted to be safe.

  
    Then the sound of metal meeting flesh had sounded from directly in front of her, and a sharp tip had pressed up against her chest, and the crushing pressure of the Draugr’s grip had released her and she had fallen immediately backwards.

  
    When she had opened her eyes, she had learned the most important thing she would ever need to know.

  
    No matter what happened, no matter what the situation, she would always be safe with Carmilla.

  
    The girl had stood a short distance from her, sword drawn, the Draugr dead at her feet.

  
    No longer had her eyes been blue. Instead, they had reflected her usual golden brown, and they had gazed upon her unrestrained in a mixture of horror and relief.

  
    Her hands had dripped with the Draugr’s carnage, as she had impaled the sword deep into it’s back in order to halt it’s actions. As a result, her sword had dripped onto her hands, and they had been stained an unsettling copper color.

  
    Laura had never been more happy to see someone in her entire life.

  
    She had flung herself onto her feet immediately, intent on throwing herself at her savior, but her ankle had screamed in protest and she had teetered before collapsing, her mouth open in a soundless scream as she had hit back onto the ground hard.

  
    Carmilla had been beside her immediately, her hands once again bathed in warm light as she had pressed them to the parts of Laura’s body that had burned most viciously, and she had murmured incoherent strings of words that were perhaps intended to sound soothing, but instead came off simply as frantic.

  
    Finally, when Carmilla had seemingly found nothing else to heal, the light had faded from her hands, and she had rocked backwards, ever so uncertain, her eyes wide and panicked in a manner that Laura found bizarrely attractive. She had found comfort in the heavy breathes that Carmilla had taken, her chest moving against her arm steadily, and the rhythm had helped to calm down her own racing heart.

  
    “Were you scared?” Carmilla had asked her, and Laura’s eyes had flickered closed as she had released a shaky breath.

  
    “I thought it was going to kill me,” Laura had told her simply, and then suddenly Carmilla had enveloped her within the warmth of her embrace, and things, at least for the moment, had seemed okay.

  
    Carmilla had held her like that until she had stopped burning, until her eyes had stopped crying and her body had stopped trembling.

  
    Only then had Carmilla dared to pull her to her feet, and had kept her closer than before, her hands lingering where before they had receded.

  
    “Let’s leave, Laura,” She had said then, and Laura had not missed the implication upon which her name implied, “Let’s leave and never come back,”

  
    They had done exactly that.                   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as the majority of readers probably have little understanding of the Skyrim universe/world, I've provided a helpful assemblage of information below, to hopefully better your understanding of the world this AU is taking place in.
> 
> Skyrim is a popular video game within The Elder Scrolls series, arguably one of the best RPG's of all time. It is a fantasy world, set in a fantasy land with mythical species and legends. It is vastly focused on the concept of Dragons, and follows the journey of the Dragonborn (Carmilla, in this case) as they attempt to save the world from said evil reptiles. 
> 
> For those wondering what Skyrim looks like, you can google image anything similar to "Skyrim map all locations" for a good idea of the locations mentioned. 
> 
> Everything quoted below is from the Skyrim wikia, a very helpful place to go if you are confused on anything.
> 
> Whiterun- a major city located in the center of Skyrim, to the northwest of the Throat of the World, the highest mountain on the entire continent of Tamriel. The capital of Whiterun Hold, Whiterun's central location makes it the province's major commercial hub. Its central location also makes it a crucial strategic point in the Civil War between the Imperial Legion loyalists and Stormcloak rebels, as control of Whiterun Hold grants access to all the surrounding areas. Initially, Whiterun is nominally aligned with The Empire, but the Jarl, Balgruuf the Greater, seems to care more about the people of Whiterun than either side of the conflict, and so the hold is effectively neutral.
> 
> Windhelm- a major city in Eastmarch, located near the Dunmeth Pass to Morrowind in northeastern Skyrim. Lying near the coast on the very northern tip of Eastmarch, Windhelm is an extremely cold city and frequently experiences blizzards. The main gate can only be accessed by crossing a long stone bridge over the White River. The Jarl of Windhelm is Ulfric Stormcloak, who resides in the Palace of the Kings. Windhelm is home to the Stormcloak Rebellion, so most people in the city support them in the Civil War. Due in part to this, anti-foreign sentiment is common in the city from the Nord (a specific race of people with nordic features) majority. Due to Stormcloak presence, Windhelm does not comply with the Imperial ban on Talos worship and features a Temple of Talos in the city.
> 
> Riverwood- a small village located in the province of Skyrim. The village is built on the eastern bank of the White River, in Whiterun Hold. It is a small Nordic village set in a valley, between the river and the steep mountainside of the Throat of the World. It serves largely as a stopping point and rural community along the road from Helgen to Whiterun. 
> 
> Talos- known as Tiber Septim, Ysmir, Dragonborn, and heir to the Seat of Sundered Kings, was, and arguably still is, the greatest hero-god of Mankind. Talos is worshipped as the protector and patron of just rulership and civil society. 
> 
> The Civil War Conflict- The Skyrim Civil War (called the Stormcloak Rebellion by the Empire and the Great Uprising by the Stormcloaks) is an ongoing civil war in the province of Skyrim. It began when High King Torygg was slain in a duel by the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak, who then initiated the Stormcloak Rebellion. The Stormcloaks believe that the Empire betrayed Skyrim by signing the White-Gold Concordat with the Aldmeri Dominion at the end of the Great War. The Concordat binds the Empire to several Thalmor demands, including the outlawing of Talos worship. The Stormcloaks feel that the Thalmor have far too much influence over the Empire. The Imperial Legion see the Stormcloaks as traitors — partly due to their desire to secede from the Empire and partly because of Ulfric's killing of High King Torygg — and seek to crush the rebellion and prevent it from gaining a stronger foothold in Skyrim. 
> 
> Thalmor- The Thalmor is the governmental representation of the Third Aldmeri Dominion, the union of Valenwood, the Summerset Isles and the client states of Elsweyr. As explained by Delphine, the members of the Thalmor are "elven supremacists" who seek to end the Empire and eradicate the worship of Talos.
> 
> Please note that once again, none of this is my own wording, nor do I claim it to be my own. It belongs solely to the Skyrim Wikia writers, which you should check out for more information. If you have any more questions, you can contact me at my tumblr.


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